#like nothing changed but so many things changed

[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part five

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!

The following day you’re not surprised by the way you’re feeling. After standing in the pouring rain yesterday it doesn’t surprise you that you’re feeling sick. After wearing your soaked dress for way too long, it only seems logical that you’re not feeling that well right now. It does however annoy you. You don’t feel like getting out of your bed. You’d rather stay in your bed for the rest of the day. However, Lando did already sent you multiple texts about grabbing breakfast together somewhere. After yesterday you don’t want to say no to him. So, with a big sigh you get out of your bed. 

When you leave the comfort from your bed, the cold air is quick to hit you. It reminds you that you really don’t know how to dress yourself. Then you notice Lando his sweater laying on your floor. When you were shivering in the car next to him yesterday, he eventually pulled of his own sweater and gave it to you. Without giving it a second thought, you pick it up and put it on. You grab some pants from your closet and continue to get dressed. More effort then this isn’t in it today. You skip doing your make up and start to walk out of your room. 

Lando is quick to give you a confused look when he sees you coming towards him. “Are you okay?” He asks you. In the mean time he can’t look somewhere else then at the sweater you’re wearing. It makes him feel all fuzzy on the inside that you’re wearing his sweater again. 

“Good morning to you too,” you softly chuckle, “I’m feeling okay.”

“You don’t look okay,” Lando quickly replies. 

“I’m okay,” you repeat your earlier words.

“You’re lying,” Lando states.

“Let’s go for breakfast?” You try to change the subject. Lando lets out a soft laugh. You notice how cute his laugh can be. Then he shakes his head at you. “Babygirl,” he softly says, “it’s pretty clear that you’re sick. We’re not going out like this.” 

You wonder how Lando noticed in this short amount of time that you’re not feeling well. He barely saw you and already figured you out. Even Max isn’t this fast with seeing right through you. Lando keeps amazing you lately. Yesterday night was also one of those moments. When you came back at his place after the disaster with your ex, Lando made sure he took care of you for the rest of the evening. Together the two of you watched some movies, while Lando made sure you were feeling comfortable. Eventually you ended up falling asleep on him, only for him to wake you up and bring you to your own bed. He keeps confusing you. 

“But you wanted to get breakfast,” you reply to Lando.

“And now I want you to feel better,” Lando is quick to reply.

“Why?” You ask surprised. Lando confuses you again with his words. It’s not that it’s bad for him that you’re sick, right? Or is he afraid that you will infect him as well? Maybe it’s about that. Then you should get back to your room you guess.

“Because you need to join me to the race this weekend,” Lando states.

“I need to join you?” You ask surprised.

“Yes,” Lando replies. He’s not making things more clear. Why does he want you to join him? You want to ask him that question and a lot of other questions, but Lando is already talking again. “What about pancakes for breakfast?” He asks you. 

You laugh about the way he changes the subject, but you do accept the pancakes. “One condition,” you quickly tell him, “You’ll let me help.”

“No, no,” Lando replies, “I’ll make the pancakes, go sit down babygirl.”

You feel your heart flutter at the nickname. It reminds you about yesterday. Maybe your ex was right. It only feels right when Lando is the one who calls you babygirl. That can’t be good.

“No offense Lan, but you can’t even cut up some onions. It seems a bit more safe for me to help you.”

Lando chuckles and makes room for you to join him at the counter. 

+++

The rest of that day, Lando makes sure you’re close to him. It’s surprisingly sweet how close he keeps you to himself. He hasn’t left you alone once today. You overheard one of his friends calling him and asking to do something, but Lando was quick to say no. It kinda feels like you’re his priority today. You can’t deny that it makes you feel good. 

For now he has you pulled on top of himself on the couch. You’re watching one of your guilty pleasure reality shows. Lando is making fun of the people who participate, but doesn’t complain about the show itself. In the mean time he focusses on playing with your hair. He has you closer on top op him then last night. Maybe it’s because you’re sick and in the need of comfort, maybe it’s because you slowly start to realize that you like Lando, but you let him hold you exactly how he wants to. Meaning that you’re on top of him, with your head on his chest. 

Eventually you fall asleep on top of Lando. The tiredness of being sick caught up with you. Lando is quick to notice it. He hears the soft snores which you’re letting out caused by your cold. It’s cute according to him, although he’s sure you won’t agree with him on that. While you’re sleeping, Lando continues to play with your hair. 

Lando has sunken deep into his own thoughts. He can’t stop thinking about the progress he made. Max would be proud of him. It has always surprised him how supportive Max has been about his feelings for you. What once started like a small crush, has developed into a massive one for now. Max once told him about your ex and how he really disliked the guy - something Lando strongly agrees with since yesterday. But, because of that Lando always thought Max would be protective and wouldn’t be a fan when he told him about his crush.

“You’re the worst you know,” Max tells Lando with a soft chuckle. Lando is quick to watch away from you and to focus his attention on his friend. He really should stop staring this much at you. In the mean time you’re walking away. Lando can’t help it and watches you once again. 

“The absolute worst,” Max continues.

“Hm?” Lando asks, “Why am I the worst?”

“Your eyes are practically glued on my sister,” Max states. 

Lando wants to deny the words of Max, but he can’t even find words to do so. Max is right. He only hopes that Max doesn’t connect the dots further. Max laughs when Lando doesn’t respond at first. 

“Don’t stress about it,” Max continues, “I don’t mind your crush on her.”

“My crush?” Lando is quick to ask, “I don’t have a-“

“Lando,” Max sighs while interrupting him. “You don’t have to lie about it.”

“You don’t mind it?” Lando asks, he needs to make sure he heard it right. Max has always been really protective about you, so Lando is surprised with how this is going. 

“If she has to have a boyfriend, then your my first pick.”

It’s the doorbell that shakes him out of his earlier thoughts. Lando opens the app on his phone. You’re still asleep on his lap. He wants to keep it that way. When he sees the person in front of the door, he chuckles softly. What a coincidence. He taps on the microphone and starts to talk.

“Hey Max, there’s a key under the doormat. I’m in the living room,” he says. He notices how Max nods at him and starts to search for the key. It only takes a small minute before Max is walking into his living room. 

When Max walks in, the first thing he notices is you laying on top of Lando while being peacefully asleep. He lets out a soft laugh while looking at Lando and you. “Things are finally working out for you I see?” He asks at first.

While Lando and Max are making some small talk, you slowly wake up as well. At first you wonder to who Lando is talking to, but then you recognize the voice of your brother. You doubt about opening your eyes and showing the boys that you’re awake. They seem to have fun talking together. You decide to give yourself a couple more minutes before intervening in the conversation of Max and Lando. 

“You keep surprising me,” you hear Max tell to Lando, “A couple nights back she kept texting me about how annoying you were and how you were keeping awake, but now she’s sleeping on top of you? And in your sweater?” 

“It’s a surprise for me as well,” Lando replies. You feel how his hand finds your hair again. Slowly he caresses your hair locks. It makes you feel even more comfortable. It can’t be good how comfortable you are with Lando. It surprises you.

“So no more random girls?” Max asks. 

You can’t hear Lando his response. He probably either shook or nodded his head. You wonder which one was it. Max chuckles about it, so you guess he nodded his head. You know for a fact that Lando is a player and will always stay one. It makes your small crush on him only more hopeless. What you don’t know is that Lando never shook his head harder to answer with no to a question. 

“But since when are you this close?” Max asks further.

“I don’t know if we’re this close,” Lando sighs, “There was some drama yesterday night, but she should tell you herself about that. I picked her up and tried to help her. And this morning she was sick, so we did nothing all day expect lay on the couch.”

“Since when can you do that?” Max asks surprised, “Normally you can’t even be home for more then an hour.”

Slowly you open your eyes as well. It starts to feel a bit rude to listen to Max and Lando like this. Although you do feel kinda annoyed that Lando still is having sex with other girls. Not that you care, of course. Max is the first one to discover your open eyes and that you seem to be awake. 

“Hey!” He greets you enthusiastically. Softly you greet your brother back. You try to sit up a bit instead of laying on Lando, but Lando is quick to keep you close to him. He does however let you sit straight, but after that he pulls you into his arms again. You don’t say anything about it, you just let it happen. Maybe you should stop things like this. You remember yourself about Lando and the other girls and slowly move away from Lando. 

In the mean time Max tells Lando and you everything that happened to him lately. You try to focus on his words, but Lando beats you with responding quickly every time. You let it happen. In some strange way, you can’t seem to focus. Maybe it’s still the sickness. 

“What did I hear? You had some drama?” Max asks you eventually with a smile.

“It was my ex,” you softly sigh. Max is quick to lose his earlier smile. You know that he has always hated your ex. There wasn’t any specific reason, as far that you know, but Max didn’t like your ex since the beginning. 

“What happened?” Max asks quickly.

You start to explain everything to Max what happened last night, giving more details this time then Lando even knew. “He still had some of my stuff,” you start, “and he wanted to meet up to give it back, so we agreed on grabbing dinner together. At first it wasn’t that bad, but eventually he started about getting back together.”

“He wanted to get back together with you?” Lando asks you annoyed. You show him a small nod. Max is muttering some swear words as well in the mean time. You ignore their reactions and continue with telling them what happened. 

“I told him that I wasn’t interested anymore,” you explain, “but he thought I had a new boyfriend. He even asked me if it was Lando. I kept telling him that I’m still single, but not feeling anything for him anymore but he didn’t believe me. Eventually he called me a bitch, so I paid for my part and wanted to leave.”

“You should have called me earlier,” Lando mutters, “I should have joined you or something, I knew it was a bad idea.” 

“He kept bugging me while I was waiting for Lando to pick me up. Thank god Lando broke probably every speed law and was there really fast,” you joke, “but when my ex saw Lando, he got even more mad. He called me a slut.”

“He called you a slut?” Max asks angrily. You nod. 

“Then it kinda escalated,” you continue, “Long story short, he called me a slut again, Lando punched him and eventually my ex missed Lando and punched me.” 

Max is quick to stand up. “I’m going to kill him,” he mutters, “What a fucking idiot.”

“But Lando made him scared and then he ran away,” you end the story. 

Max is still angry. He does however turn his attention towards Lando. “This is why,” Max eventually tells Lando. You have no clue about what he’s talking, but Lando seems to get it. Lando even shows him a small smile. He knows that this is Max telling him why he does approve of him trying to get with you. 

+++

Later that day you feel a lot better then before. Even good enough to have an argument with Lando. It annoys you that things always have to go like this. Everything went well today, but now you’re feeling angry with him again. You don’t even know how it happened, but you’re almost screaming at Lando right now. Fuck. 

Lando just told you about his plans to have some drinks with friends tonight, meaning that he would leave you alone for the rest of the night. You couldn’t help yourself and made a small remark about him coming home again with a girl. Which Lando denied, according to him he hasn’t done that since the last girl you heard. Something you don’t believe. 

“Why don’t you believe me?” Lando sighs. 

“Because you’re a player,” you reply annoyed, “you don’t change like that.”

Lando lets out another loud sigh. He doesn’t know what to say. Of course, he realizes that your claims aren’t coming from nowhere. Maybe he even thinks he deserves it, but still… he wants you to believe him. 

“Why do you even care about this?” Lando eventually asks you a bit hopeless. He doesn’t know why you’re arguing with him about this. Of course, he hopes that you do care about it, but the chances are kinda low for that. 

“I don’t care about it,” you are quick to state. 

“Then why are we arguing about this?” Lando continues to ask.

You don’t have an answer for that question. Lando is right, if you claim to not care about this then it’s stupid to even talk about it. But having this argument with him, is less scary then confessing that you actually do care about it. 

“So correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t care if I’m bringing home a girl?” Lando asks further. He’s pushing it this time. Of course, he hopes that you’re going to deny his words but he’s afraid that you won’t. 

You doubt about your answer. Maybe you should just be honest. You do care if Lando brings home a girl, because you really don’t want it to happen. This time not because you’re afraid that the sounds will wake you up, but because you’re afraid for your own reaction when it happens. It annoys you that you can’t seem to trust yourself around Lando anymore. There’s a small part inside of you who’s dying to disagree with Lando his words, to tell him that you do care about it. But the small part doesn’t win, you’re not confessing. 

“I don’t care,” you state.

Lando takes one last look at you before walking away. He shakes his head in disbelief and sighs while walking away from the living room. In the mean time he decides that this was it. It has no use to walk after you and to wait until you’ll give him a chance, if that would ever happen. You don’t care about him fucking with another girl, so why would he hold back anymore? He really needs to forget about his crush on you. It can’t go like this any longer.

Later that night, you can’t seem to fall asleep. You’re still annoyed by everything that happened. Maybe you’re even so annoyed that you’re still sitting on the couch and scrolling on your phone, instead of being in your bed and catching some sleep. You feel your fever rising up again, but you don’t let yourself go to bed. 

You need to know if Lando brings someone home.

Lando didn’t text you, you also didn’t text him after he walked away. You don’t know if he’s coming home late, you can only hope it won’t be that late. You know that this is weird. This isn’t healthy. But still, here you are - sitting on the couch and waiting for Lando to come back home. Maybe you should talk about this with Max? You really need some help.

Before you can make up your mind, you hear the front door opening. It only takes two seconds before you have the answer on your burning question. 

It’s the innocent giggles of another random girl that forms the answer to your question. Of course, he bought someone home with him.

a/n; sorry took a bit longer this time :( kinda busy with workkk. hope everyone likes this chapter, the next one will have something more happening :))))

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#lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris x reader #ln4 #lando norris imagines #lando norris imagine #formula one #f1

[fum1ku]

hii !! i really enjoyed your works so far and saw that your requests are open ! could i request the hq boys reacting to you running up to hug them after they win a tournament? not sure how many characters i can req so just however many you would like :D

HUGS AFTER A TOURNAMENT - HQ BOYS

ft. kei tsukishima, ryuunosuke tanaka, tobio kageyama, daichi sawamura

KEI: him being the salty guy he is (or can be) he’s not one for physical affection. but when he’s out on the court with his team celebrating their win and he catches you out of the corner of his eye—he’s hooked. and even if he’d never admit it, you were the only one he wanted to celebrate his big win with.

you came running up from behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.

“kei! that was amazing. you did great—you all did great!” you beamed, your voice muffled into his jersey.

“yeah, yeah. let’s get off the court, dumbass. people can see us.”

you smiled, noticing the red tinge on his cheeks; his hand holding yours tightly as he guided you both off the court.

RYŪNOSUKE: of course he’s one of the first to celebrate their big win. after each team thanks each other and makes their way off the court, he goes off to find you in the stands.

spotting you, he excitedly runs up to you and sweeps you off your feet and into his arms, before you could even get a chance to hug him yourself. “y/n! babe! did you see that? hey, we won!”

you laugh, “i saw, ryuu! you did amazing, baby. i saw you when you—”

he cut you off with a kiss. yeah, he was drenched in sweat, but you couldn’t have been happier to be with him in this moment after their big win.

suga was the one who needed your moment. “if you two are done, we’re heading over to change and get some food to celebrate—”

tanaka gave you a quick kiss and ran off to get changed. you couldn’t help but smile to yourself the entire walk out of the arena and back to the bus.

TOBIO: it had been a close game. but karasuno had turned the tables during the final set. offering to help clean up the court before heading home, tobio stayed back with a few other players.

you had made your way down to the court to find tobio, a broom in hand, sweeping the court. you ran up behind him and wrapped your arms around him.

“you did amazing, tobio!” you beamed. you could feel him first stiffen at the feeling of your arms around him, but his figure softened once he heard those words from you.

“you.. you really think so, y/n?” he questioned.

“yeah, tobio! i know so. i watched the whole thing!”

his cheeks burned red in the moment. you really were that proud of him.

DAICHI: he had ended up in the floor, engulfed by suga and asahi. this game had meant everything to them.

you laughed to yourself on the sidelines next to kiyoko, watching the whole thing take place. you wanted nothing more than to run up to your sweet boyfriend and hug him, but that would have to wait until the teams had said their thank you’s and goodbyes.

at the last moment, you finally watched as daichi made his way over to your spot in the bench.

“y/n, hey! did you—” you immediately cut him off with your embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his body close to yours.

you smiled to yourself in the moment.

“hey, you’re that excited for us too?” he laughed.

you pulled back to have your eyes meet with his. “of course i am! you guys did amazing. you did amazing!”

you planted a soft kiss to his cheek.

“yeah, we really did, huh?” he smiled.

© fum1ku 2024.

⁂ taglist: none at the moment !!

thank you so much for the request!! i’m glad so many people are enjoying my writing:) sorry if this seemed a little rushed or lacked some characters. i wasn’t sure who to include! and as always, my requests are always open!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu anime #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #kageyama x reader #hq kageyama #kageyama tobio #daichi sawamura x reader #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi x you #daichi x reader #haikyuu daichi #tanaka ryuunosuke #tanaka x reader #ryuunosuke tanaka

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! Can I send kinda silly request for Eddie and reader? (I read this fun fact in some scientific magazine 😅)

Reader and Eddie are trying to have a baby so she's getting off pill but Eddie read in some girly magazine that after getting on pill women's taste in men changes.

So after getting off, it changes again to original set up. (Scientists conducted some research in which women even started to hate smell of their man, pheromones or some shit.)

The boy is scared that this scientific thing is gonna work in their case also. So he starts to take a shower few times a day and wear enormous amount of cologne non stop.

Reader can't stand it so she have to prove him she still desires him. (Also she can't stop laughing for a while when he tells her)

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

His smell

Y/N and Eddie had been married for almost two years, and they were itching to have a baby.

Y/N went off the pill and they had been trying and trying for a baby all the time. Eddie swore he was in the prime time of his life.

Eddie waited in the waiting room as Y/N sat in her appointment. He was bored out of his mind and picked up one of the magazines. He flipped through it, even more, bored as the scientific facts put him to sleep.

But then something made him jump awake

"Getting off the pill? Think twice because you may not desire your man anymore"

Eddie quickly skimmed the page, his eyes reading the words faster than he had ever read in his life. Eddie felt like he held his breath as he read all the small articles. From what his brain understood, Scientists conducted some research in which women even started to hate the smell of their man.

Eddie closed the magazine and threw it back on the table.

"Ready?" Y/N asked, looking down at Eddie with a huge smile

Eddie nodded and stood up. He kept looking back at that magazine until they were out the door.

Then he sprayed cologne on like he had the money for ten bottles. Which he did not.

~~~

Eddie hated how paranoid he was. He woke up and showered, he refused to wear anything twice, and then he'd shower before bed. Sometimes he even took up to three or four showers. He was constantly scrubbing his body. He even stole her body wash and towels.

But he refused to smell around his wife.

~~~

"Eddie? This water bill is through the roof. What have you been doing?" Y/N laughed as she looked at their bills.

"Nothing, why is it me?" He asked as he sipped on his cold beer. He took the seat across from her.

"Because I haven't been doing anything different. So that leaves you. Why is the water bill so high?" She asked again

"Just taking some showers" Eddie shrugged

"But why? I mean you sometimes shower even if you did nothing."

"You can still be dirty after doing nothing!" Eddie defended

"Eddie, I've seen you not shower after many things that needed a shower. What's going on?" She asked, she reached over and rubbed his hand. "Are you sneaking in there to do something?"

"NO!" Eddie said, "It's just...I don't want to smell around you."

Y/N blinked in confusion as she stared at her husband

"Since when have you ever cared about that? Two weeks ago you shoved my face in your armpit and asked if you need more deodorant." Y/N said

"Fine, remember when we went to the doctor?"

Y/N nodded as Eddie continued

"I read something that said...after you get off the pill things change. And sometimes women begin to...hate the smell of their man." Eddie kept his eyes on his beer

It was silent

And then

Y/N was laughing her ass off

"Wow, what an amazing wife you are!" Eddie pouted as he yanked his hand away from hers.

"Oh Eddie stop it!" She laughed, "I just...you are adorable."

"You are laughing at me!" Eddie whined as he threw his head back

"Baby, look at me," she said, she tried her best to hold back her laugh

He sighed but looked at her

"I still desire you and your smell." She said, but giggled.

"I so believe you," Eddie said as he rolled his eyes. "My own wife making fun of me." He continued to pout as he stood up and walked over to the couch.

Y/N followed him, holding back her laughs.

Eddie planted himself on the couch with a huff

"I'm just surprised you read science," she said as she stood above him

"I was bored!" Eddie defended

"I think it's sexy you wanted me to desire you."

"Really?" He asked, his puppy eyes looked back up at her

"Makes me desire you even more," she said, her voice low as she placed herself on his lap.

His hands moved to wrap around her waist without a thought

She leaned down and smelled his neck, her nose traveled up his neck and tickled his skin.

"You smell good enough to sink my teeth into," she purred into his neck

He squeezed her hips as he felt his body react to her words

"Want me to prove how much I still desire you?" She asked, a twinkle in her eye as she smiled down on him

"I think that's the nice thing to do," he said with a smirk

She squealed as he threw her over his shoulder and ran them into their bedroom.

Tags!

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader

[042502]

 𐙚  .   mine, all mine!

⠀⠀⠀ᝰ.ᐟ pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader.

⠀⠀⠀ᝰ.ᐟ summary: an excellent combination, sex and a good ⠀⠀⠀cannabis cigarette.

⠀⠀⠀ᝰ.ᐟ content: smut. unprotected sex. marijuana consumption. ⠀⠀⠀slight mention of breeding kink.

⠀⠀⠀ᝰ.ᐟ pris's note: my first language is not English. Below I leave ⠀⠀⠀you the masterlist in case you like to read more content like ⠀⠀⠀this. Thanks for reading 🤍! This fic was written by my bestie in ⠀⠀⠀class 👀

Chris watched as your body bounced up and down on his cock, the surface of your palms pressed firmly against his chest, enveloping his length completely, every inch of his hard cock filling your pussy, driving you both to madness.

It had been hours since they started, and whatever was in the joint they'd shared or in the night air, they were both fucking like animals.

Your thighs burned from the repetitive movements on Chris's body, exhausted, but your pace remained relentless.

Chris could tell you were desperate for another orgasm, sliding your wet pussy up and down his cock effortlessly as your juices and cum soaked your center and thighs from having thrust inside you so many times.

One of Chris's firm hands gripped your ass, his fingers gripping tightly on your soft flesh, keeping you in position so you wouldn't change your rhythm, while his other hand was in charge of putting the joint to your lips so that you could puff it and returning it to his when you were finished.

"That's it," he moaned, a slight smile on his lips as his hand guided you along his length, the expression on your face, your teary eyes that let small tears fall when you closed them in pleasure served as a great boost for his ego. "My fucking pretty girl, ride this cock, baby, it's all yours."

The lustful melody of your skin slapping against him, the sound of the firm spanks on your ass, your high-pitched moans and gasps were like divine music to both of their ears.

You moved your hips back and forth, bouncing up and down again, making circles and figure eights along its length, mindlessly dragging your hips wherever you saw fit, moving in any way on him.

“Eyes on me, princess,” Chris brought his hand to your jaw, forcing you to lower your head to look at him. "You're squeezing me so tight," He groaned, pressing your sweaty foreheads together, and by the way he looked at you you could tell that he knew you were on the verge of another orgasm once again. His eyes looked deep into yours and without wasting any time his hips rose up and met your bounces, aiming to get you to that height as fast as he could.

"Chris!" his name was the only thing you found emerging in your brain, the new angle of the position in which his cock pierces your pussy, He made you feel so full of him, so lost in pleasure that you didn't realize the knot in your stomach was breaking.

Chris squeezed your ass tightly, the painful pleasure forcing you to sit up and take his onslaught, making you feel how he fucked you with intensity, each drag of his cock against your walls sends you to a temporary state of immobility, your muscles tense as you feel yourself being showered with another blinding orgasm.

Chris watches with the joint between his lips as your mouth opens without making a sound, as your eyes roll back in his head, with an exhausted throat while nothing is said yet.

And he, at the same time, pumped his creamy cum back into your womb, praising you for fucking him so well, for having a perfect pussy that was totally his.

"You're perfect, mine, all mine, I'm going to give you until I fill you with me and have you carrying my babies, okay? That's what you want, right? good girl,"

#sturniolo triplets #﹙𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬. 𝐒﹚🦌 ， #੭ 🤍 ! 𝓈 #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo soft #chris sturniolo x you #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew bernard sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine

[silovsmenot]

Family Skate | Artūrs Šilovs

Requested by anon…

i love ur writing sm.... what if i suggest an imagine where reader and Arturs go on a skate date, like at an ice rink or something, and he teaches reader how to skate. i think that would be really cute idk that man is soooo beautiful and i want to hold his hand

WARNINGS: As usual, this is just pure fluff. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilovs x f!reader. NOTES: I would sell my soul to hold his hand, ngl. I haven't proof read this, so hopefully no major issues. WORD COUNT: 1792

The closing of the season was bittersweet. The team had fought so hard, but with the 3-2 loss in game seven, the Canucks were eliminated from the playoffs. You’d sat and comforted Artūrs all night, barely sleeping as he sat silently and over-thought every decision and move he made in that game.

The loss was nowhere near his fault, but he blamed himself — as would many of the guys, if you’d have to guess. The wives and girlfriends group chat was quiet for the first time in weeks, only the occasional message coming through about how proud each of the partners was of the players. Messages that you showed to Arty, but nothing could draw him out of his slump.

The next day was not easy, nor the day after that. All of the guys were second-guessing themselves and speaking little of what happened. The press-conference came and went, Arty and the boys answering every question that came their way with the lingering dark clouds above their head. But there was a light on the horizon, something that you knew that Arty was looking forward to — whether he’d admit it or not.

It was no secret that you couldn’t skate. Sure, you could stand on skates and, with knees bent and arms clinging to the side, you could shuffle around the boards. But that wasn’t exactly what you’d call skating. Artūrs had long spoken about taking you to the rink when things were quiet, of teaching you to skate and you were excited for the day.

And with the season now over, and the ice days from being lifted, the Canucks organisation would put on their annual private family skate. It would be your first with the team, and while you’d met and become close with the majority of the other wives and girlfriends, it was a daunting idea.

You’d smiled from ear to ear the night before when Art had appeared in the living room of the small condo beside the Rogers Arena with a pair of skates in your size. He’d had them sharpened and made ready all without you knowing that evening — if he was honest, it was a good escape from the weight that still rested upon him. And the sight of your smile was enough to lift a large amount of the sadness.

Unsurprisingly you were the first pair to enter the rink that morning, the short commute from the condo to the family area taking you only about five minutes with skates in one hand and the Latvian goalie claiming the other.

Weaving through doors, he held open the Canucks changing room door for you and followed close behind. There, you paused for a moment — even now, it looked so empty. It came with a solemn feeling in your chest, but the names were still above the stalls and you spotted his  name quickly. Art sat you down first, kneeling at your feet as he worked the laces of the new skates.

“Does that feel okay?” 

You quickly nodded in response, hands clasping yours as you pulled onto your feet. You wobbled lightly, but could stand. He led you a few steps, then back and finally nodded in success.

“They suit you.” Art whispered as he leaned in close, planting a tender kiss upon your cheek which still bought a pink flush to your cheeks. He always told you that you looked beautiful, and you’d never tire of hearing it. 

You stayed standing as he sat to tie his own laces, shifting on your feet to get to grips with the feeling — turning to smile and wave as the door would open for the first flood of players and their partners. Teddy Blueger and Monique were the first to come in your direction, Teddy giving you a playful and light nudge with a hand ready to catch if you stumbled. Both Teddy and Artūrs were quick to grab hands and pull into hugs, exchanging fast words in their native language while Monique rolled her eyes lightly to you.

“And they’re off.” She teased in a hushed voice, pulling you with her to sit. The changing room would soon buzz with life, and with the bare stalls, it was a welcome change. It wasn’t right when it was quiet and bare.

Bodies soon began filing down the corridor toward the ice, the busy chatter filling the silence nicely as you and Artūrs would intertwine fingers once more. It felt strange to him now, walking down the tunnel to an empty ice rink. Of course, it was no different to training, but everything had ended so abruptly… It still hadn’t quite sunk in for him.

But whatever he was thinking, he hid it well from you — the smile still firmly glued to his lips as he watched your face light up.

“Just take it slow, Art.” You quietly said as you neared the ice, your boyfriend stepping onto the ice without hesitation or any kind of shift to his stance. This was just like walking to him, but to you? You weren’t so sure.

He offered a second hand, ready to guide and balance you as soon as you stepped out onto the ice. With a steadying breath, you took the step — perhaps a little eager as your skates attempted to slip from beneath you immediately, the hands of Artūrs rescuing you before you lost your blades.

The soft sound of his laughter followed instantly, and it was so contagious to you. Any sense of embarrassment was lost in his laugh, the first signs of actual joy on his face since game seven. You didn’t care that it was at your expense, you were just so relieved to see it. And the fluttering would instantly return to your stomach.

“Are you alright?” He spoke through calming laughter, pulling you close to him with a soft thud of bodies. There, he could hold you tight as he made slow skating motions backwards. He wouldn’t spare a glance over his shoulder for he was too enraptured by your gaze, slightly shaken up but still entirely captivated by him.

“I’m fine, just go slow.”

And he would from that moment. You’d had your near-tumble-experience, and that was enough for him. He held both of your hands, skating backwards as you struggled on forwards. He’d give you tips with every movement, bending your knees, not leaning forward, keeping your head up and so many more. You were struggling to keep a note of each tip, but you were comfortable within his hands — Artūrs wouldn’t let you fall.

With every lap of the large rink, you felt more comfortable. The Latvian goalie gave a little raise of his brow as you released one of his hands, to skate side-by-side with a little confidence. You were less step-skating now, and more gliding. He was certainly pulling you along, but you were trying and he was thriving on the sight of you trying your best with this.

“Keep your knees bent, push forward with your skate — yes, just like that.” He encouraged with each passing moment, grin growing exponentially as you were doing well. 

Artūrs was a pretty good teacher and an even better balancing point. He did a good job of distracting you from everyone else around, skating with ease or children stumbling and giggling. You were in your little skating world with him, the occasional squeeze of your hand as silent encouragement from him.

You were enjoying yourself. Even when he released your hand with a playful wiggle of his brows, skating backwards in front of you, just out of reach — the look of mischief clear upon his face.

“Artūrs, come back here. Please!” You cried out through the lingering laughter, the confidence leaving your motion instantly. Your gliding movements turned back to awkward step-skating, with hands outstretched for him which only served to have you leaning forward.

“Straighten up, y/n.” He calmly said, stopping himself before you. He was close enough to grab you if you fell, but far enough that you couldn’t just hold onto him. “You can do it.”

You weren’t sure if you could, but you concluded that there was no harm in trying — as long as he caught you. You didn’t want the bruises.

Another heavy, steadying breath parted your lips as you straightened up. Your hands at your sides as you took the first step, pushing your bladed foot forward as he’d taught you. You clenched your eyes shut, half expecting the tumble into his arms or the ice, but you drifted. So you took the second step, skating gliding forward — you took the next step, and the next, until you were skating alone.

Artūrs looked simply triumphant as he watched you, weaving backward without even lifting his skates. He didn’t even try to hide the pride on his face from you as you sheepishly laughed to yourself, hands balled as you stopped yourself from dancing (knowing you’d definitely go tumbling with that).

“You’re a natural, y/n. Want to join the team?” The voice of Jack Hughes shouted as he neared, shooting a cheeky wink in your direction and was gone as quickly as he appeared. You batted his hands away with a dramatic swatting of your hand, gaze playfully narrowing in a glare toward him which only served to make the captain laugh.

Almost as soon as you were getting truly confident with it, the session was over. The honking of the zamboni turning all heads, and the rink staff standing ready at the gate. Couples and families were quick to file off the ice, till it was only you and Art making your way toward the nearest gate. He waited on the other side, hand ready to support you as you’d make the first step off the ice.

In comparison to your step onto the ice, you did it with grace. There was no tumble this time. And as they often did, fingers tangled together at the first touch of his hand — the smiles immediately upon both faces.

“Did you enjoy that?” Art was quick to ask. Your head nodding swiftly and truthfully. “You did really well, I’m very proud of you.”

You simply melted to hear him say that. And you’d only melt further as he leaned down, pulling you into him as lips would collide. His free hand softly playing with the strands of your hair, you could feel how he smiled into the kiss and it was intoxicating.

“Come on, lovebirds — we’re going for a drink!” A voice shouted from down the corridor, abruptly breaking the kiss with a shared laugh. You raised a hand to acknowledge the shout, foreheads resting together as you simply revelled in the moment together.

#arturs silovs #my baby goalie #silovs #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl oneshot #arturs silovs x reader #nhl x reader #arturs silovs x y/n #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #you just know he's a wholesome bean #he'd be an amazing boyfriend #silovsmenotwrites #imagine requests

[sssammich]

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

i got you anon! sorry this took a while.

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed for supercorp*

ask meme

THIS ABSOLUTELY RAN AWAY FROM ME IM SO SORRY

---

"your true love is an alien."

well. there's certainly a lot to unpack from that, isn't there?

let's try.

first. this short and frumpy old lady with both hands on her hips is standing in front of her desk, somehow able to bypass security and her assistant, jess, who is mysteriously absent from her desk.

second. aliens aren't real. right? (right?)

third. the concept of true love is laughable. this is the 21st century and subscribing to these silly fairytale notions of true love is a lot of bullshit. let alone the idea that there is someone even out there for lena in that capacity. nevermind that apparently the only possible candidate for such a title is someone who isn't even human.

fourth. what does this even all mean? and why is she allowing her conference call to madrid get completely derailed by this woman who looks like she's more suited for the kitchen of a small hole in the wall italian restaurant and not the middle of a fortune 500 corporate office.

(all this to say that when lena eventually looks back at her life, she'll think that this is probably not even top five of the weirdest things to happen to her. it might just barely squeak into the top ten, though.)

still, she's faced with a strange predicament at this time. like how to get this lady out of her office.

yet instead of shooing this lady out, her mouth opens to say, "what's next, are you gonna tell me that magic is also real?"

the old lady in front of her just shrugs. "true love is magic, dearie. keep up, mm?"

when she opens her mouth again, she's just about to dismiss this lady, but it doesn't even matter because as soon as she blinks, she's alone.

-

something saves her.

no wait, it's someone. someone saves her.

her helicopter is crashing, the pilot is dead and dying beside her, and they're plummeting.

until, of course, they're not.

because someone is carrying her burning helicopter down on a hellipad and yanking the door out to check on them. lena's heart is in her throat and her lungs are somewhere in her stomach and she doesn't know if she's still even alive. but this someone is definitely hovering before she's holding lena securely.

"hi," the woman says, tentative, blue eyes and blonde hair and armsarmsarms and a red cape and--

something inside of lena's heart changes-transforms-evolves.

and then she passes the fuck out.

-

when she wakes, it's to dim lighting in a hospital room, the beeping of her heartrate monitor. distantly, she hears very little outside which means she's in a much more private wing of the hospital.

she sits up a little when a nurse comes in holding a tray.

except it's not a nurse at all. but the same lady from before.

"you."

"hello, dearie."

so many questions jump at the forefront of her mind. understandable and reasonable questions like hey lady what the fuck are you doing here? how did you get in? what do you want from me? are you here to kill me? stuff like that.

except the flashes of earlier appear in her mind and she recalls blonde blue red. she gasps.

the old lady smiles. "very good, dearie. they did say you were smarter than the others."

"what do you want from me?"

"nothing."

"then what are you doing here?" she asks, her voice gaining strength, her hands balling into fists by her side.

"just consider me an invested party."

before she can voice anything, the old lady places her cup of jello and plastic spoon by her thigh.

"take care, dearie. tell her i said hello, mm?"

lena's brows furrow, questions crowding her mind as she attempts to make sense of everything but failing to do so. the last she hears is a snap of fingers and she falls into a dreamless sleep.

-

when lena next wakes, she's back in her office. a week after the failed assassination attempt on her life.

the buzz of her intercom signals jess's voice. "miss luthor, your 2pm appointment is here. would you like me to let her in."

"go ahead."

she stands by her desk and brushes at her skirt just as the door opens to reveal a beautiful and bespectacled woman with her hair pulled in a ponytail.

blonde blue red.

lena's mouth dries and her insides do a somersault. she remembers the helicopter, the hospital, the old lady. the words your true love is an alien pinballing in her head (in her heart in her heart in her heart).

"hi, miss luthor. thanks for meeting with me."

lena looks at the offered hand. strong hands that have held her before. on a burning helicopter.

"of course..." she says, waiting for the woman to fill in the blanks.

"kara. kara danvers."

"well, kara, call me lena."

it takes five eternal seconds for them to let go of each other's clasped hands.

-

lena finds out about kara bit by bit. through interviews, through professional coffee meetings, through informal coffee meetings, through casual walks around downtown and the city parks, through casual lunches and dinners and desserts.

congregating around food so she holds a fork or a burger or an ice cream cone in her hand while she fights the urge to hold kara's hand.

lena learns about who kara is. a reporter by day (who moonlights as a superhero, lena muses, but kara doesn't share that information). an avid pop music lover and movie buff. a regular buff with hard cuts of muscles. arms arms arms arms--

kara is lame. a dork. goofy. foolish. beautiful. quiet. pensive. perceptive. deep. kind. loving. oh, so loving. so very loving.

kara is a hugger. a holder. an engulfer. an overwhelmer. she is the ocean and lena is the lone driftwood that crashes against waves. lena wants to be washed ashore only for the ocean to capture her once more because the ocean can't be denied.

she doesn't want to deny kara.

"lena?"

she blinks back to her present, washing away the cloud of her thoughts. right. they're at dinner. her fork held midair just before her mouth. they are in kara's apartment.

"yes, darling?"

kara smiles at her, though there is concern in her eyes. "where'd you go just now?"

she wants to say she went to the ocean but it's true either way when she offers her best smile to kara who mirrors it easily, breezily.

"i was just thinking that your cooking has gotten better."

kara ducks her head, her smile turning shy. "thanks, lena."

lena doesn't want to deny kara.

-

briefly, distantly, lena thinks that perhaps there's an inevitability to this moment.

this moment being:

kara is standing in front of her with her button down shirt opened to the fifth button where lena sees the S emblem over kara's chest.

"i wanted to tell you. f-for so long, i just--" she stops herself and takes a deep breath. "i'm sorry, lena."

lena is quiet. her vision unable to focus on any one thing. she looks at the blonde of her hair out of its regular ponytail. at the blue of kara's eyes. at the red of the symbol atop her chest.

blonde blue red.

"you're an alien." she announces it for the first time, despite the truth have sat carefully under her tongue for months.

kara swallows, then nods. "lena-"

what did that old lady say? she can't remember right now because her brain is buzzing, her heart is thumping, and the overwhelming urge to melt into kara is all she can think about.

she propels forward, pushing up on the tips of her toes, and kisses kara.

kara's arms are around her, hands holding her, body engulfing her.

soft lips slide against hers, press upon her, permanently transforming the chemistry of her body with the way that kara is now part of her.

when they break apart, she only grins at the dazed expression on kara's face.

"you...you like me too?"

she is beaming because of course she likes kara too, likes her more than like. so she answers by kissing kara again.

-

for their first date, kara takes her to a small italian hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

"this is my favorite italian spot in the city. in the state, actually. maybe even the country!" kara exclaims, excitedly talking and gesticulating but making sure that their hands stay interlaced with one another.

when they get there, they're seated right away, a young woman seating them in the back booth.

"hi, kara. table for 2?"

kara nods and lena watches. "you come here often?" she asks.

"yeah. i hit this place up at least a couple times a month. good thing my metabolism allows me to eat as much pasta as i want. the chef in the back makes it fresh every day."

amidst drinking wine and twirling their forks in their pasta, kara is leaning closer to her, the two of them sitting adjacent to each other, their elbows grazing each other on the corner.

when they finish, kara pays, insists on it, and asks if they can stop by the kitchen to pay compliments to the chef. with hands still intertwined, kara pushes the swinging door forward, and calls for chef nina.

lena watches as kara releases her hold of lena and approaches the short and frumpy old lady who only wipes her hands on a stained white apron before opening her arms up to receive kara's hug.

over kara's shoulder, the old lady winks at lena.

and lena?

well, she just laughs and laughs, kisses kara on the lips, and hugs the old lady.

#anonymous #replies #supercorp #fic ask meme #samficlet #this is so long it doesn't make sense im sorry but it's the only idea i have in my mind for it and it won't leave me alone

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

My beautiful, stupid maid

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, Donna's POV

Word count: 5,080

Summary: I don't know why I don't want you to leave...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Requests are open!! I love you all!!!

I thought I like to be alone.

Everyone told me: you need some company. They don’t know me. My family, as they call themselves, care about me, or so they think they do. I don't need helpless maids running through the halls. I don't need to waste time on people I don't care about. My life doesn’t revolve around achieving power, around needing the feeling of being above others, like my siblings do.

I was always a lonely woman, and Mother Miranda's gift could change many things, but not that. Not that.

Angie was everything I needed.

I know what they think about me, what they talk about: “Poor Donna, she's so lonely…” “She's not mentally developed,” “she only cares about her stupid dolls…” Comments that they think I don't hear.

To be honest, I never cared about that. I know what I’m, what place in the world there was for me. My dolls, my house, my loneliness. Sometimes I lose my mind and cry without wanting to. Sometimes I want to end the meaninglessness that my life has become. Angie takes me away from those thoughts, she calms me down. I didn't need anything but to keep serene and continue existing.

At least I thought I didn't need anything else.

Then you showed up.

“Mother Miranda has granted me the honor of working for you, Lady Beneviento,” you said, appearing in my house, in my territory. In all this time, many villagers had been stupid enough to approach my house.

None of them returned. Thanks to the gift that was given to me, I could enjoy seeing the fear in their eyes, seeing how terrible their thoughts are. At first I had to admit that I was even afraid of myself.

The human mind is so fragile... How much people can suffer just with their own memories is incredible. For some reason, I didn't feel the need to torture you.

You seemed shy, but you didn't stop smiling, even with my fervent refusal. I couldn't disobey Mother Miranda, and I couldn't stop looking into those bright, strange eyes.

Angie was just a lost part of my consciousness, some thoughts that left my mind when I granted her the gift of life. She thought that for you to work for me was a good idea. Not me.

I didn't even know your name, but I opened the doors of my house to you. Who was I to argue with Mother Miranda's demands? Maybe I just got carried away with Angie.

I tried to avoid you. I didn't want to think that you were here, with me, that I was no longer alone. But you... You came to me, like a fly to a light trap, blinded, surely by your innocence, heading towards danger.

“Is everything to your liking, my lady?” “Would you like me to make you some tea, my lady?” Always those stupid questions. Hearing your voice was nothing but torture for me, a reminder that you were still there, that, no matter how much your presence bothered me, I was not capable of throwing you out or of making you hallucinate so you would run away from here, so you would never come back.

Silence was always my response, the affirmation that I didn't want you to be here. I have never had the ability or the need to talk to anyone, not even to my siblings. You were not going to be an exception.

My lady... What stupidity is that? I didn't want to be your lady. I didn't want you to consider yourself my property. I was alone, and I liked it.

Unfortunately, time only revealed your annoying presence. My routine is always the same and to trip with you was inevitable. I curse the Black Gods for turning my gaze towards yours.

What a maid... You were clumsy. You didn't know how to clean properly. You served no purpose other than to disrupt my existence. But I could never hurt you. It didn't matter how many vases you broke, how many times you burned the food. I felt incapable of scolding you, of throwing you out of my house.

Someday I woke up with the decision to put an end to that stuff, to make you suffer and disappear forever. Those thoughts faded the moment my hidden gaze met yours again.

That smile, those eyes... That messy hair and the dress that framed your figure made me back away, give you another chance. Chance? I didn't want you to be here. I never wanted you to come to my house. I didn't want to see your stupid smile. I didn't want to, and yet, I felt the need to see you.

Are you also a creation of Mother Miranda?

I know that she experiments on villagers, that she creates aberrations. Could you be one of them? What exactly has the Cadou done to you? Were you some kind of sorceress?

I've read too many books about witches, about mermaids who trick sailors into taking their souls. I always thought they were stupid stories to scare children. But the more I look at you, the more I think you're like a witch from those stories, or like a mermaid. Do you want to trick me into taking my soul? Too late, girl, it's been a long time since I had a soul.

“Good morning, my lady, did you sleep well?” you asked every morning. My ability to ignore you faltered over time. Anyway, I couldn't lose anything by nodding.

That was my worst mistake, making you believe that I was somehow communicating with you. That small gesture gave you more confidence in yourself. It made you believe that you could annoy me even more.

One night I tried to relax, sit by the fireplace and read another of those mermaid stories. Suddenly, I felt the need to know more about these creatures. Somehow, I was afraid that you were one of them. That the movement my head made, forcing me to follow you with my gaze, was some kind of spell from you.

“Excuse me, my lady,” you said to me, with the nerve to put a hand on my shoulder. I was startled, but I knew how to hide it so you wouldn't notice.

I nodded for you to talk, even though I didn't want you to, what is happening to me?

“I'm a bit bored, I was wondering if you could recommend me a book,” you said with your hands together in front of your body, with that formality that I knew you didn't have.

I was thoughtful for a moment. My hands shook as they held Homer's Odyssey. Your mermaid song was not going to be able to defeat me, you stupid maid.

“A book?” I asked without realizing it, letting out my voice, a voice that I hadn't used for a long time and that I didn't want to use precisely with you. I had to calm down, or you would trick me.

“Yes, well... Books about plants are interesting but...” You said, looking away from my hateful gaze.

Did you mean to joke? What made you think you could joke with me? Moron.

“I've been looking for something a bit more entertaining but I can't find anything. Also, most of them are in Italian and I… Well, I can’t read them.”

I shook my head. Fortunately, you couldn't see my face. A smile involuntarily spread across it.

“My family was Italian,” I said in a hoarse voice, giving her an absurd explanation, which she certainly didn’t deserve.

“Oh, okay,” you whispered nervously.

Why were you nervous? Oh, sure... In these three months and five days you hadn't heard me speak. I have a horrible voice, right? I'm sure you hate me even more now. Everybody hates me.

The light from the fireplace rested on your face, dancing in your eyes, on your skin. Have you hypnotized me? I couldn’t stop looking at you.

I sighed listlessly, looking for an excuse for your eyes to stop enchanting me. I got up from the couch, looking for something that would keep you entertained, quiet. Your voice is beautiful, but I don't want to hear it. Beautiful?

“For whom the bell tolls... Ernest Hemingway,” you said when I finally gave you a book so you would leave me alone. You just had to take the damn book and get out of my sight. It wasn't that difficult, was it? “It’s a good one?”

“Yes, it is,” I responded with a dry throat, nervous about the subtle contact my hand made brushing against yours. When I touched you, the porcelain of my dolls came to my mind. Soft, delicate…

“Thank you, I promise that tomorrow I won't burn the toast,” you said amused, were you trying to make me laugh? Good luck with that.

Something had changed in your attitude. I wondered if hearing me talk had anything to do with it. I didn't want you to be here. I hate you, stupid maid.

Time passed slowly. I found myself counting the days, the hours you spent with me. Your overconfidence was disgusting. Some nights, you sat next to me, reading that book, commenting each of the things that seemed curious to you. I have already read it, you silly maid. I don't need to hear your... Your beautiful voice.

I've never been right in the head, I know that. Since I was little I had problems. Problems with my appearance, with people... I have never gotten over it and I never will. My past is a field of thorns that stick into my skin every night when I try to sleep.

But... My demons were not keeping me awake, your eyes were, those two beautiful pearls that you had on your face, ones that I couldn't stop looking at. What are you doing to me? What is happening to me? I feel weak, tired. I'm not hungry, I'm not sleepy. I don't feel like getting out of my bed, to face your gaze again.

Sitting at my old dressing table, I look at my deformed face in a mirror. I'm a monster. I should have gotten used to seeing myself like that, to having that horrible thing on my face, just as I got used to the changes in my body when I became Mother Miranda's daughter.

I felt my heart sink as I looked at myself in that mirror. A deformed monster, a strange creature, an aberration. Those statements that were going through my head were more present than ever.

“What's wrong, Donna?” Angie asked, climbing onto my lap. My sweet and faithful Angie, I don't know what I would have done without you.

“I'm a monster, Angie,” I murmured, with a tear running down my untouched cheek. I can't tell how many times I have burst into tears because of that. That night was different.

“No, no, that's not true,” the doll said. I wish I could believe her words. Angie was my creation. She was part of my consciousness. She would never hurt me... I don't even know what Angie is exactly anymore. “The maid likes you…”

“What?” I said startled.

I know Angie wanted to make me feel better, but she was never particularly good at it.

She couldn't lie to me. She didn't have the ability to do so.

Do you like me? What nonsense. I know you don’t. I know it's impossible. Anyway…why am I worried? Why I didn’t stop thinking about those words?

Love is a luxury that I could never enjoy. Loving a woman, being loved... Those were just fantasies in my head, a fictitious feeling that, like mermaids, only lived in my books.

Every day I kept seeing your stupid… Beautiful… Smile. You were still here, you hadn't left. I couldn't say when I started to worry about you leaving. I didn’t want you to be here but... I didn't want you to leave. I had never felt so many contradictions at the same time. I had never suffered so many anxiety attacks in the safety of my room.

You never saw me lose my temper. I didn't want you to see me like that. For some reason, I didn't want to.

I tried to push you away, but you were getting closer, touching me with your dress, touching my hand when you handed me a cup of tea. Were you really the one who did it? Was my hand subtly caressing your skin? It didn't seem to bother you either.

You were still here, like every day, torturing me with your eyes, with your smile, with your movements when you walked near me. Your gaze was tender and respectful, but your body wasn’t. Your body caused sensations that I always ignored in me.

“That doll is beautiful, Donna,” you whispered, taking my tea to the workshop. That place was always a refuge, the only place in the house where my thoughts were not focused on you.

“Thank you,” I said. To let my voice speak for me didn’t take long. I had been doing it for so long that I no longer stopped to think why it wasn't difficult for me to do it with you.

“Look, it has my eyes,” you said amused, gently picking up the newly made doll.

A heaviness in my head said there was something wrong. Yes, you were right. That damn doll had your beautiful eyes. Wait, shouldn't I say: That beautiful doll had your damn eyes?

“Yes, well, I...” I stammered, confused. I hadn't even realized it. Even without thinking about you, I was doing it. Even when I made my dolls, I put your same hair to them, your eyes, the marks that I could see on your skin… I was no longer safe even in my own workshop.

“It's very nice,” you whispered, returning the doll to me with a sigh. “Anyway, I think I should start making the soup… You liked it with a bit of dill, right?”

“Yes... I... Yes, yes,” I stammered, nodding, but without looking at your face. I was just looking at the doll, at your vivid portrait made unconsciously. I could no longer deny how obsessed I was with you, that I thought about you even without doing it.

I refused to believe it was love or anything like that. At night I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what spell you had used on me. Your eyes stopped appearing in my nightmares, and now they were present in my most beautiful dreams. In them I see you, I see us together, close, with our hands intertwined. They were just dreams... Dreams in which I don't have that horrible thing on my face, in which your eyes shine when you look at me, in which your lips... In which your lips are too close to mine.

I felt unable to ignore the sensations that the mere fact of being close to you caused me. Love is something absurd, a waste of time. Everyone wants to hurt you, Donna, don't forget that.

My head fought with my heart, with the trembling of my hands when I was close to yours. You always were here with that smile, with that look, making me unable to think about anything but in your lips on mine, in your body very close to mine.

The nights got worse. Drawing your image in my thoughts usually helped me to stay calm and sleep, dreaming about you. Not anymore. I can no longer let myself be carried away by my feelings. The sensations were different, physical, overwhelming. I no longer imagined your smile, or a simple kiss. No, now your body was naked next to mine, now my caresses no longer wandered over your face, but over your chest, your waist, your legs…

Lust is a sin, or so my parents said. I was never ignorant, or stupid. My body had needs, and even more so after the change that Cadou produced in me. I thought it was routine, something necessary...

One more task to be calm, to relax. My mind traveled to unknown places, imagining faceless women while I soothed myself with my hands. It was pleasant, but empty, lacking in feelings or the desire to do it. I simply wanted to relieve my body so that my mind wouldn't become destabilized.

That night, my body was calling me again. No matter how much I tried to get my excitement to relax, I wasn't able to do so. I wanted something, my body wanted something, and I had to give that to it.

My hands moved down my nightclothes to my trembling erection, stroking it gently. Maybe it was my impression, but I could feel much more than other times... The difference? There were no longer faceless women in my head or erotic stories hidden in one of my books. I was thinking about you.

I felt the need to end that discomfort between my legs as quickly as possible and for some reason, I thought that including you in my lascivious thoughts might help. Quite the opposite. The pleasure of my hand going up and down, the gasps that came out of my mouth involuntarily made me want to go slower. I wanted to keep thinking about what it would be like to be inside of you, to hear you moan with your mermaid voice, to see you closing those bright eyes while I made you mine.

My movements were fast, but intense. My head was imagining how good it would feel to have the images in my head come true. To release myself didn't take long, but I felt I enjoyed doing it too much.

Cleaning myself in the bathroom, I looked the mirror again. My face was red and my breathing was labored. I wiped my hands with a towel and stood there, looking at my reflection, feeling a pang in my heart at the thought that everything I dream of were just fantasies.

I felt guilty for enjoying myself at your expense, for masturbating thinking about you, but... I also felt frustrated by how absurd was to think about how far my feelings had gone. So much so that I lost the little decency I had, the deal I made with myself not to fall in love, not to feel the need to hug a human body instead of a porcelain doll.

In my incipient desperation, I called my sister Alcina, telling her everything that was happening to me. Angie gave me nothing but absurd advices. I needed the opinion of someone more... Experienced.

It was of no use to me. According to her, my need to make that stupid maid mine was absurd. “You are a powerful woman, Donna. If you want something from that girl, just take it. She will never contradict you, for her own sake.”

Everything was so easy for a woman like Alcina...

A dark part of my mind seriously considered following her advice. I never felt remorse for torturing those stupid villagers, why would I feel remorse for taking what I want to make mine?

But no, that part of me that I'm ashamed of had to shut up. I couldn't just… No, I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it, but I wanted to. I wanted you in an unbearable way.

The nights were torture, the days were even worse. At least at night I just had to imagine you, I didn't have to feel you, I didn't have to touch your hand. Yes, you kept rubbing your hand with mine. Have you ever done that? It was me? I wouldn't know how to answer. I would like to ask you, but I don't dare to do it.

You are killing me, you stupid, beautiful maid. You kill me slowly, you make me fall in love with you without mercy, you look at me, you talk to me... You are here with me. I’m here with you. You don't want to leave. I don't want you to leave.

One afternoon, I tried to escape from my carnal desires, from the feelings that filled my head. I was painting dolls, sewing without rest. I had been doing it for hours, I didn't know how many.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you said politely, entering disrespectfully, interrupting my bitterness.

“What do you want? I'm busy,” my words were cold, lacking that softness with which they always spoke to you.

“I'm sorry, it's just that... It's just that I... I have to clean this up. It's the last room before being able to rest,” you said shyly. Was it me or your cheeks were blushing? What were you thinking about? You were thinking about another way to fool me? Stop it. You've already done it. I feel that if I were a sailor, I would already be drifting, desperately searching to hear your siren song again.

“Okay,” I said briefly, avoiding your tender smile, looking at that doll, looking at your eyes on it again.

As you moved around my workshop, my clumsy and trembling hands made the task of painting correctly impossible. With you here, to concentrate was impossible for me.

My thoughts began to spin out of control as I tilted my head to look at you. There you were, leaning over one of the dusty tables. You looked at me, like you knew I was doing the same thing. I looked away and squeezed my hands tightly.

If you want something from her, just take it.

The phrase my sister said appeared in my head suddenly, treacherously, just at the moment when my crazy gaze was directed at the small spot that you had very close to your neckline. One I couldn't forget.

My actions took control of my body, causing me to get up slowly, like a shadow that stalks you without realizing it.

I wanted to tell you so many things... I wanted to be able to talk to you about my feelings before approaching you from behind, running a hand through your hair, brushing it away from your shoulders.

You stood still, but you didn't complain, you didn't turn around and slap me for my impudence. No, you seemed like butter under my touch, under my hands on your shoulders, on your neck.

An unexpected gasp left your lips as I got closer and closer, feeling your subtle but intoxicating perfume, feeling the heat of your body passing through my dress.

“I can't stop thinking about you...” I whispered without meaning to, confessing an undeniable truth, confessing that you are not the stupid maid that I didn’t want to have. You were the girl I wanted to love.

“Donna...” You sighed, when I removed the veil from my face to place my lips on your pale skin, behind your perfect ear.

When I started to be just Donna to you? What about the my lady thing?

Kissing your skin was like a cold breeze on a hot day, like laughing when you're sad. It was a feeling of relief, of pleasure.

Even being behind you, I could feel your heavy breathing. What did you feel? Were you in hell or in paradise?

I couldn't know and I didn't want to know. My hands worked on their own, covering every inch of your body while my mouth was cruel to your neck.

Having your chest in my hands, passing my fingers through the fabric that covered your breasts... All that things I imagined at night were mine in that moment. A part of my conscience was screaming for me to stop, to be sure that you wanted to do it. No, dear maid, I wasn’t going to ask.

You turned around slowly, letting my hands continue roaming your body. You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to run away.

“I think about you too...” You whispered, moving my black veil aside. There was nothing to fear anymore. You would be with me or you would disappear from my life. My face didn't matter. I didn’t care if you thought I was a monster. I was willing to force you.

Your smile remained tender, relaxed at the sight of my exposed face. There was no horror in your eyes, disgust in your gaze. No, there was only… Peace, tranquility, and that smile that kept me awake at nights.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” you said, bringing your hand to my deformed cheek, running your fingers over my scar, as if it were nothing, as if it were of no importance to you.

I grabbed your wrist to stop you before leaning towards you, before placing my lips on yours. I had never kissed anyone and I was thankful I hadn't. Your kiss was my first one.

Little by little I moved closer, making your back collide with the edge of the table. I couldn't stop kissing you. I didn't want to stop kissing you. Your lips were addictive. They were everything I had imagined. Your body against mine, your hands going down my waist, you and me...

I could no longer contain my desire to make you mine, to love you, to make love you. I was willing to force you to do it, to not listen to your screams, to make you run away. I didn't have to. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who rubbed my hands with yours. You did it too.

My need to love you was put before romance, caresses, kisses and affectionate whispers in your ear. I had spent too much time thinking about how I felt about you. I didn't want to tell you, I wanted to show you.

I lifted your body by your legs, sitting you on the table, drowning in your kisses, letting my hands touch whatever they wanted... Just like yours. I felt like such a simple act was more than enough to feel my arousal rubbing against my underwear. You were irresistible, a goddess, a mermaid, a witch... But above all, you were going to be mine.

I looked at you, wishing it wasn't a dream and you were really there. You smiled again. What have you done to me? What did I do to you? Have you fooled me? Have I tricked you? Did you also think of me as if I were a mermaid?

Absurd questions that my body didn't have time for. I needed you, my beautiful maid. With a hasty movement, I put my hands into your dress while you hung around my neck, making to concentrate on loving you harder for me, kissing me eagerly, with a desire that I was unaware of.

Your underwear disappeared around your ankles as your hands left my neck, to play on my chest, to free me from my own clothes. Were you in a hurry as I was?

When I finally had access to you, my body moved on its own, lifting your legs slightly, remaining enthralled by those hidden corners of your body.

 You didn't say anything about what was between my legs. You just looked at it curiously. I don't like being looked at, tesoro, you should know that.

You bit your lip, but you didn't say anything. You just pulled me so that my erection rubbed against your wetness. There was nothing else to say, but there were a lot of things to do.

I entered you hastily, feeling a wave of unimaginable pleasure. I was not delicate, nor kind. I didn't know if someone had ever loved you, I didn't want to know either. Your walls hugged me tightly, keeping me right where you wanted, making you moan in a way that I already knew would drive me crazy.

You had more clothes than in my dreams, but the sensations you sent to my body every time they moved exceeded my expectations. You hugged me so well... You took it so well... You were perfect, as if your body was made just for me.

“Don't stop, Donna...” You begged, writhing on that table. My thrusts had relaxed as I looked at you, as I closely admired your beauty without the veil between us. I just shook my head, kissing you passionately as my hips resumed their movements.

“I think... I think I love you...” I whispered with a voice low enough so you couldn't hear it, camouflaging it between our moans. There came a time when I decided to close my eye and not look at you anymore.

Behind you, the dolls that I made rested, looking at me. They were judging me. I wasn't going to let my problems ruin that moment. My sick mind was not going to stop me from continuing to make love to you.

“My God, Donna... I'm so close...” You murmured, ignoring my declaration of love. Why would I want you to answer me? I said it in a way I which you wouldn't hear me.

My hips went out of control and my arms hugged your body, keeping it close to me, not letting you stop hugging me with your walls, not letting me stop making my way inside of you.

I stopped just when the pleasure became unbearable, letting my heat flood inside you, releasing myself inside you, making you mine forever.

You panted, exhausted. Your nails had scratched my skin as I cum. Did that mean you did it too?

“I think... I think I love you too,” you murmured, responding late to my statement, to my confession, hugging me, kissing me with affection, with that affection that I lacked.

“Don’t dare to leave,” I said with a dark voice, before consuming myself again in your kisses.

“I won't do it,” you answered on my lips, keeping me inside of you, not wanting to separate you from me.

I thought I liked being alone, but now I know I couldn't live without you.

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot

[my-castles-crumbling]

Prank Wars

Submission 1 for Wolfstar Bingo! - Rating: T - No warnings - Word Count: 595 - AO3 link

When asked later on, James couldn't really explain how things got this bad. It had started innocently enough- a bit of food thrown at dinner, a funny note sent in class. They'd never pranked each other before. Early on in their friendship, it had been mutually-agreed-upon that their skills were best used as an unstoppable team, rather than splitting up their unique abilities to end up in civil war. Strength in numbers, and all that.

But the tension between Sirius and Remus had reached horrifying heights, and somehow, the two had ended up in an all-out war. James and Peter both struggled to stay out of it, only because they were both too terrified to take sides, and if they were honest, it was much more entertaining to watch from afar.

From James's point of view, Remus and Sirius were evenly matched. Remus was smart. He had brilliant ideas and was skilled at all forms of magic. But he lacked nerve and, of lack of a better word, the utter balls to go overboard.

That, of course, was what Sirius had in excess. Sirius acted first and thought later, which resulted in many situations that caused James to almost piss himself laughing.

Of course, the whole thing was caused by the fact that neither would admit that all of their underlying irritation and anger toward the other was caused by feelings and tension that had been building since September 1st of their first year. James and Peter both had lamented to each other that the way Moony and Padfoot both looked at each other was disgusting, and the sooner the two came to their senses, the better.

It turned out that it was the pranks that did it.

On one random Wednesday evening, Sirius decided it was a genius idea to charm the shower to spray some sort of questionable goo out of the spout, right before Remus showered. This went flawlessly, right up until a very angry Remus tried to fix the showerhead and the whole thing fell off. So, Remus, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist stomped out of the bathroom, goo cascading down his bare chest and a furious expression on his face.

But, rather than be scared, Sirius was very distracted.

Because up until that point, Remus had been quite shy about his body. None of them had made a big deal of it. They knew of his scars and his desire to hide them, so even though they'd all caught glances, they didn't push him to walk around shirtless like they did. He swam with a t-shirt and changed in the bathroom and that was that.

So this was the first time Sirius had gotten a good look. And from what James could tell, he had quite forgotten how to use his brain. All of his blood had gone...elsewhere.

"Erm, Pads? Help Remus fix the shower, yeah?" James judged him, trying to shock him out of his gaping.

But Sirius, who had turned bright red, was only able to mumble, "Fucking- fuck," under his breath before following a now-quiet Remus into the bathroom.

At first James was nervous that Remus would take Sirius's staring the wrong way. But suddenly, he heard a small thump and a suspicious moan that he was sure he was not supposed to hear.

"C'mon, Wormy, let's go!" he shouted quickly, pulling his friend out of the room just as another moan was heard through the bathroom door.

He figured his friends could finally figure out what to do from here.

#marauders #harry potter #marauders era #fanfic #marauders fandom #harry potter marauders #the marauders #the marauders fandom #sirius black x remus lupin #remus loves sirius #remus x sirius #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x remus #sirius x lupin #remus john lupin #remus lupin #wolfstar #sirius and remus #remus lupin and sirius black #sirius being sirius #moony #padfoot #remus lupin x sirius black #wolfstar fic #james & sirius #james is a good friend

[ninyard]

Hey, so you said to send you prompts... Could you talk about some things Neil starts to remember and how he copes with remembering?

Here’s the time where Neil remembers being waterboarded, because I haven’t stopped thinking about that. Like not even once. cw; torture, vomitting

-

It’s not long after the Foxes big championship win that Andrew and Neil find themselves in a too-big, too-fancy hotel room for the first time. Kevin is staying with them, but he’s busy doing something with Wymack for a couple hours.

They have no responsibilities, nothing to do other than enjoy a hotel room to themselves. They do what any other couple would reasonably do; they order a bottle of champagne, a couple of desserts, and they run a hot bath. Not for them both, in the beginning, but Neil’s muscles are sore after a tough practice with Kevin the night beforehand, so he decided to run it for himself. The water is perfect to touch, almost a perfect amount in the tub, and Andrew is sitting up on the bathroom counter with his own glass of champagne in his hands.

“This feels weird,” Neil comments, twisting the knob until the water ceases to spill from the gold coloured faucet of the bath. “Like it’s something couples do.”

“Normal couples,” Andrew corrects him, putting the glass to his lips as Neil removes his clothes one article at a time. “You’re cleaning yourself and I’m here for moral support.”

“From all the way over there?” Neil steps into the hot water. The steam from it has fogged up the mirrors already, and he slides down into the white porcelain, relaxing back until the hair at the back of his neck is darkened by the water that wets it.

“I’m comfortable.” Andrew says around the rim of the flute. “But if you’re not used to it I can show you how it’s done.”

“Why would I not be used to having a bath?” Neil scoffs, running his wet hands over his hair to slick it back off of his face.

“I can’t picture it,” he shrugs, but he doesn’t really mean it. “I don’t imagine you had many while on the run.”

Neil’s sweet laugh reverberates around the room. “You’re right, but it’s not like it’s hard. I lie here and relax until I get so warm that it feels like I’m going to pass out. Right?”

Neil shuts his eyes and sinks back until the water surrounds his face, his hearing muffled by its calming rumble. He holds his breath to dip his face under before coming back up to the surface. When he opens his eyes after wiping the water from them, he looks over as Andrew crouched next to him with a washcloth in one hand and Neil’s glass in the other. Neil takes the glass in a dripping hand, and looks at Andrew as he sips from the cold, bubbly liquid.

“Are you going to show me how it’s done?” He says, and Andrew waves him off. He slips out of his robe with ease, and gestures for Neil to move forward in the tub. There’s plenty of room for the both of them, and Andrew steps in to sit behind him, his legs on either side of Neil. Neil waits until he is comfortable before reaching out to place his glass on the floor, moving to rest his back on Andrew’s chest.

They don’t speak as Andrew dips the small square cloth into the water to brush it over the top of Neil’s back. Neil shuts his eyes. The only sound in the room is the movement of the water between them, and the relaxed breathing that leaves the both of their noses. Andrew’s free arm rests on the edge of the tub, and Neil reaches out to interlace their fingers together. It’s so calming, the warmth that surrounds them, the peace that comes with the two of them alone together like this, so normal and comfortable.

Andrew’s squeezes out the liquid from the cloth onto the top of Neil’s head, then, startling him from his thoughts.

“I was just about to say how nice this was,” he tilts his head to let the water run off of it. “Thank you for changing my mind.”

Andrew’s response is to mumble a sound that could’ve been misconstrued as an apology, until he dips the cloth back under the water, and does it again. Neil tried to take the cloth from him, and the tub squeaks as he moves around, but Andrew keeps pulling it out of his reach.

Andrew gives up when Neil gets a hold of it, accepting as the gesture is returned. Neil loves how his blonde hair darkens under water, and smiles as Andrew’s bangs flatten over his eyes. He’s not quite turned around to face Andrew, but he twists his back to push his hair back off of his face.

“Yes or no?” He asks, and Andrew opens his eyes. His cheeks are pink from the heat of the bath.

“Yes.” He answers, and Neil stretches out to kiss him softly on the lips, before plopping the sopping wet square of fabric on the top of his head. Neil is laughing as Andrew takes the cloth from his hair and throws it at him, flat against his face, but that beautiful and melodic sound does not last long. It does not last long, as Neil’s laugh leads him to inhale beneath the fabric, and his flinch is almost strong enough to send a tidal wave of water cascading out onto the tiled floor.

For a second, Neil is back in the nest.

For a second, the memory is hazy, something unfamiliar. It’s not a memory he’s had before, more like a dream than a conscious reminder of Evermore.

There’s Jean’s hands on his shoulders, or somewhere else, as they tended to be, holding him down with as more force as required to keep him still. Riko’s maniacal laughter scores the scene, as he takes a break from whatever words he’d been spewing to admire his work.

“What is it?” Riko says. No, it’s Andrew, in their hotel bathroom, with this look across his face.

The washcloth is in Neil’s hand, and he looks down to it, but he sees nothing as he lifts his head back up. He can feel it, though, the water-heavy fabric spread over his face, over his head, draped without a chance of falling off. He doesn’t scream, but he hears it, the gargle of a plea to stop, incoherent as he feels himself drowning.

He can see Andrew as he wraps his fingers around Neil’s wrists, to pull them away from the mouth that they’d found themselves clamped over. There’s too much water. Too much water that feels like it’s filling his lungs, and it’s around him, and it’s in his hair, it’s in his eyes. Even the hands that protect him are damp with liquid. With lungs unwilling to fill at all, he tries to kick the water away from him, but with every movement, it just comes back to him stronger.

“You’ll drown him,” A cry of English words dipped in a French accent passes in front of him. He can’t hear it properly at all. It’s too loud; the slapping of water on a surface, the sputtering as he desperately struggles out of the path of pouring. Jean’s strained words mean nothing to Riko, a worthless request that would only lead to a desire for Riko to fulfil such a thing. “The master will not be pleased if you do.”

Riko snaps back at him then, a bark in Japanese as the spilling water subsides. He lifts the towel, or the bedsheets, or the heavy item of clothing that covered his lips. One hand in auburn hair he holds Neil back. He remembers how he pulls his own hair from its root while trying to lean forward to get the water out of his lungs.

He is standing now, and Andrew has wrapped him in a dry bathrobe before dressing himself, and he is rubbing a towel over Neil’s skin to dry it. Neil catches a glimpse of himself in the foggy glass of the shower door beside them, his lips almost blue, and face as pale as the porcelain tub that had started to drain.

Andrew snaps his fingers to pull Neil’s attention back to him, and does it again when it is unsuccessful at evoking any reaction. Neil looks at him finally, and Andrew places one hand on his chest and the other wrapped around the back of his neck.

“Breathe,” he says, one word, like it’s an easy thing to do.

“I can’t,” Neil gasps, but his lungs fill with water with every fill he takes in.

“You can.” Andrew says, sternly. “Breathe, Neil.”

Neil breathes in deep, but with it, another unexpected splash from an emptying basin pours down his throat without reprieve. He doesn’t remember falling to the floor, but suddenly his hands are flat on cold tile, as he heaves in oxygen that refuses to fill his chest at all.

Andrew lets him fall to his knees, and he doesn’t touch him. Instead he kneels down in front of him, his presence noticeable as Neil struggles through flashes of darkness and water and water and water and water.

“Stop,” he doesn’t mean to say it. His words are clear now, not a foolishly daring gargle, but still he feels the stream that travels from the sides of his lips down his cheeks.

“You’re killing him,” Jean’s panic doesn’t help. It doesn’t help, as the idea of torturing Neil to the point of extinction is nothing more than a turn on to Riko. It doesn’t stop him from holding each side of the towel over his face and pulling it backwards, crushing his nose, the water held in its fibres forced to escape. Riko does not fear the threat of a life taken by his hand. He is nothing less than excited by it.

Neil knows fear like an old friend. Neil knows this slow-dance with death like a movie on replay - it is as familiar as it is terrifying. Something about this though, this twisted assault born from sick fascination with torture, it’s different. He wouldn’t say that it was too far, even for someone like his father, but truth be told, he’s never known fear like this. The scars on his chest from the pointed touch of his father’s knife, or the smell of burning skin beneath a hot iron, or the puckering hole left by a gunshot wound had nothing on the sadistic things that Riko even thought of doing. He didn’t know how long he sits, or stands, or lies in that room for, hands holding him down, darkness of black walls parallel to the wet fabric over his eyes - and mouth, and nose, tight around the edges with rogue breaths finding their way beneath water and the penetrable thing that it pours onto.

“It will be much more satisfying if you just hand me over to my father,” Neil’s coughs are wet after he vomits out the water that had made its way to his stomach. It’s not until he looks up, and Riko’s eyes are on Jean instead of him, that he realises he’s spoken in French. He switched to English while spitting out water through gargling burps and coughs. “The master will kill you if I don’t come out of here alive.”

“I will be happy at least,” Riko shoves two fingers down Neil’s throat while pulling on his hair. He wipes the watery puke that coats his fingers onto Neil’s face after he vomits again from the force of Riko’s touch at the back of his throat. The noise that leaves his lips is guttural and unintentional. “Perhaps a long and painful death will be enough of a lesson learned for you. Oh, aren’t you having fun?”

Andrew’s voice pulls him back, again, but this time he grips Neil’s face so tightly it will leave a mark. “Come back,” he says, or maybe it’s, “fucking breathe.”

Neil battles against the flood that fills his mouth with no escape. There’s no room for air. There’s no room to breathe.

“Ten minutes,” Jean says, and the water stops. “We cannot be late.”

Then a rogue breath slips through, and another, and another, and the bathroom comes back into focus. Andrew is sitting in front of him, his face still as he waits for Neil to come back.

It’s a while before Neil’s heart starts to slow, and the bath is long emptied.

A long time since Neil had had such a visceral reaction to the next, perhaps the worst part about it all is the reminder of how much Neil had forgotten about the treatment he’d endured at the nest. If he’d forgotten about something as serious as torture banned by the Geneva Convention, what else had happened? What else had his mind stored away, too traumatising to be kept in view? Riko’s proclivity to going so far as committing an act that is considered a war crime is as unsurprising as it is fitting. It angers Neil, much angrier than he’s felt about Riko since his death. He remembers it in terrible and vivid snippets; the things Jean said to him afterwards, the smile on Riko’s face as he watched Neil come back from the brink over and over and over again. He remembers drying himself off afterwards to pull gear on over his head to start their evening practices with water in his lungs and a blur over his eyes. All he had wanted to do was sleep. Jean had helped him shower afterwards as he fought through laboured breath while avoiding the spray of water.

“Where were you?” Andrew asks, quietly, as neither of them dare to move.

It frustrated Neil to be unable to find the exact location of the incident in his head. Were they in the locker room? Or had a door locked behind them, keeping the Ravens out, who pretended to ignore the muffled screams as they walked past?

“Evermore,” Neil answers, and it doesn’t seem to be the answer Andrew is expecting. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Andrew doesn’t need the clarification, but still he nods.

“Riko,” Neil looks at his hands, and they’re shaking as he flexes his fingers. “He fucking waterboarded me. And I forgot.”

A flash of unmedicated rage crosses in front of Andrew’s vision. He doesn’t seem to have the right words to say, no response appropriate enough to explain what he wished he could do to the king.

“I’d kill him if I could,” Neil rests his fists on the floor. “I wish I pulled that trigger myself.”

“And still it wouldn’t be enough,” Andrew agrees. It’s hard to talk about the nest, even with him, especially with him. They both are too aware of what happened over those few weeks, in Evermore, in Easthaven. Neil knows too well how Andrew hates how he was unable to protect him. “Talk to me.”

“He would’ve killed me,” Neil says. “He would’ve kept going if we didn’t have to practice.”

Andrew can’t hide his grimace. It’s the part about Exy that he fears Kevin or Neil will find themselves toxically invested in - he occasionally worries their investment is born from necessity instead of true purpose. He sees their passion, clear as day, but that part that fears a life without it sometimes felt like it swallowed their passion whole.

“What do you need?” He asks.

“To know he’s burning in hell for the rest of eternity,” Neil pushes himself up to a standing position, and Andrew follows. Andrew doesn’t exactly hold out his arms, but something about his body language invites him close. As Neil steps into his space, he reaches out to hold his neck, as he hovers a hand over Andrew’s chest until he nods in permission for him to place it. Neil rests him head on Andrew’s shoulder as the goalkeepers fingers hold the damp hair at the back of his neck. “I have to talk to Kevin.”

Andrew doesn’t respond.

He simply holds Neil for as long as it takes for him to ground himself back on earth.

#kind of want to write Kevin’s reaction too #but I just #yes #had to get this out there #because it’s been in my head for too long #fell out of love with this idea towards the end so #it iiiiiisss what it issssss #mine #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #andreil

[ihopeiexplode]

📱“Back to square one...” [← Previous | Next→]

—

"how much did you hear?"

"all of it"

—

He's fucked. Why did he even say that to begin with? He knows he doesn't mean it but then, why did he say it? Before he could explain himself further you just let out a sigh before leaving

I mean who are you to get mad? It's not like he's wrong this is all for a project after all, but then again why does it hurt? You don't care about what he said right? Were you hurt because you thought you could have your best friend back?

—

As you left to go outside to have some fresh air, Sukuna was left staring at where you were before you left, then uraume spoke up,

"Are you gonna do something about it?"

Sukuna didn't even say anything as he just stood up and ran after you, why was Sukuna running after you? Even he doesn't know, you two were finally on good terms and his stubbornness just had to say that didn't he.

—

He finally stood in front of you as the two of you were now facing each other right in the middle of your college's garden(?) luckily none was around during this,

"what is it sukuna?"

"y/n listen I—"

"If you're gonna apologize, save it you have nothing to apologize for, it's not like I'm blaming you for saying those it's for a project after all you don't have to actually like me, if this was all an act I don't blame you for it"

"wait so do you not care?"

"no? Why would I? It's not like we had something to begin with, it's not like your my boyfriend or anything"

he wishes he was. But one thing he doesn't understand is why don't you care? That should be a good thing, right? But why does it bother him that everything the two of you did had no effect on you? Did it mean nothing to you? Did he put that much effort into making you like him just for you to not care?

"why doesn't it bother you?"

"is it supposed to?"

"bullshit. Any girl would've done anything to be in your place. You get to spend weeks with me, do you know how many girls would've killed to spend that much time with me?"

"why are you making such a big fuss about the fact I'm not bothered? Does it look like I'm your girlfriend?"

That line alone made Sukuna shut up, he just stared at you as you walked away, your right, why is he making a big fuss about this, he just made himself look desperate.

He'd let out a groan of frustration before taking a seat on a nearby bench, and perfect timing gojo just happened to pass by and witness the scene

"What did you two have some sort of lovers quarrel?"

With that he'd take a seat right beside Sukuna, he'd immediately leave with a scowl on his face, as he left, gojo would just be there wondering what happened between you two

—

—

You'd be out shopping to clear up your mind, as you were about to pay for the things you bought, as you handed your card suddenly you saw a familiar hand pulling your card away and gave his instead,

When you looked to your side you saw the man of the hour: Sukuna.

As the cashier handed him his card back, he took your shopping bags,

"what are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to...apologize for what I said back then..." Him? Apologizing? That's new he's not the type to do that

"if you think you can buy my forgiveness think again."

"I know I know, anyways who are you with?"

Before you could answer suddenly he saw someone familiar, someone too. Familiar. And who was it? No other than Yuji.

He'd immediately clench his fist the moment he saw Yuji place his arm over your shoulder smiling at you happily as you did the same,

Then suddenly your whole mood would change the moment you stared at Sukuna

"Since you wanted to come along you can carry my bags"

He'd just roll his eyes before muttering something under his breath, however he noticed how Yuji also looked

"so can you carry my bags to?"

"carry your own bags, you have hands don't you? Use them"

Before he could even say anything just one glare from you was enough for him to grab yujis bags and carry them along with yours.

He's trying to make up for what he said so might as well fulfill your requests..

—

He hated this. He was stuck following behind you and Yuji, he hated how happy you looked spending time with another guy that isn't him. How come his own brother gets your attention when he's right here?

The whole afternoon he's stuck watching both you and Yuji spend time with one another while he's just trailing behind like some lost puppy.

—

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/N: it was supposed to be more angsty but..yeah!!!

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud @love-me-satoru @s-j320 @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @goj0sunglasses @svtvrnal @haitanibros0007 @punkhazardlaw @mslydiaa @jayathelostdragon @caileysdead @rixyaaaa @minzxec @rzcnlb

#jjk smau #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you

[midnightanxietytm]

Don't think about the dream! (NSFW)

A/n: this one is for @melle-d, so not my lamb, I had a lot of fun with this one, didn't even review it, just wrote. Also, can anyone send me a dollar for totally not related reasons? BRL don't really cover it.../j

Summary: But, since turning immortal, since getting their marvelous ring, Ewen, now known as just The Lamb, has looked forward to death, if only because they wish to see their beloved. Three nights ago though, things changed.

MINORS DNI - nsfw under cut

The Lamb is dreading their death.

Weird thing to feel, most people dread their death all their lives, it shouldn't be a new thing at all for them. But, since turning immortal, since getting their marvelous ring, Ewen, now known as just The Lamb, has looked forward to death, if only because they wish to see their beloved.

Three nights ago though, things changed and they had an… Interesting dream, one that involved their legs spread open and their god pounding them ruthlessly, and they’ve been thinking about it ever since, which was the root of their problem. If they died and ended up in his realm, Narinder would surely read their mind and see everything. Sure, it could be an opportunity to tease a bit, nothing they hadn’t done before, but that dream had been especially intimate and it had evoked a more visceral reaction than even their actual experiences.

Now, standing on the doorway to Anura, all ready for a crusade, for the first time, they hesitate. 

They step in anyways, promising themselves that this time it would be a no-death run.

It was not a no-death run.

There wasn’t much time to think about sex dreams when you’re getting swarmed by fireballs and jumped on by giant frogs, but as soon as they appeared on the summoning circle in front of their god and looked up at Narinder, the dream flashed tough their mind all over, a shiver going up their spine.

They don’t remember how it started, but they do remember the heated kisses, his clawed hands ripping their clothes, as Narinder revealed his own eldritch form; arms and abdomen pure bone, so much taller than them, pushing them into the ground and willing the crown into a barbed-

There’s half a second of regret before Narinder speaks, his tone amused; “It matters not how many times you are struck down, as I’ve told you, but are you really that eager to see me, little vessel?”

That all crossed the Lamb’s head before they had the sense to stop it. Oh sacred death they shouldn’t have thought about the dream.

Something about the way his voice rang through the infinite space brought another shiver to them and all they could think was; Don’t think about the dream, over and over, so no answer left their mouth as they looked to the side with an awkward chuckle.

“Oh, believe me, my lord, they are.” They say, but almost regret as their tone gives away all the sinful things running through their mind. Narinder seems to find the memory of their dream just then, and Ewen catches a brief second of surprise in his features.

Which seemed to be a mistake, because then came Narinder’s voice again; “What dream, Lamb?” Another shiver,now as they feel their god prod shamelessly into their mind, like cold tentacles prodding into their thoughts and- Oh lord, wrong train of thought! “It’s pointless to try and hide your mind from me, vessel, I own all of you, every thought of yours should be devoted to me.”

But then he laughs “Oh poor little vessel.” He says. “You wouldn’t be able to take me on this form.” He leans down and uses a giant hand to pull them closer. “Little Lamb, your desire is also devotion that fuels me, even if I can't personally satisfy them…”

The Lamb’s breath hitches at the implications. “I haven’t… I wouldn't dare disrespect your image, my lord.” They say, looking up through their lashes with big doe eyes and raising a hand to the bell on their neck. It was a pretended innocence, they both knew. The lamb had been not-so-subtly provoking Narinder since they first met.

  “Lamb, you are my vessel, you belong to me, every act of yours, every desire, is devotion to me.” The Lamb exhales shakily, the ring around their neck almost burns. “Go on, show me how devoted you are.”

Ewen raises their other hand and undoes the clasp of their fleece, letting it fall to their feet, then they move to remove their bell, but Narinder stops them. “Leave the bell, little lamb.” They do, and start to unbutton their clothes, all while looking up at their god. His hand was still resting on the ground behind them, and they lay down, leaning against it.

Narinder’s eyes are fixated on them as they spread open their legs, already painfully horny. They started to run their hands over their body, as they had done dozens of times before, but now, with their god watching them so intently, it felt so much better.

They don’t waste too much time, soon they’ve shoved two fingers inside themselves and moved them with reckless abandon, breathing shakily and letting out an occasional small bleat of pleasure. Narinder doesn’t say anything, but he watches them with a grin; three red eyes focused on them.

They decide then that if their god wanted to see their dream, they could show how it went, at least partially.

The crown, eager for sin, moves and transforms mid-air, assuming the phallic shape, with the barbs, just like they had imagined. Lamb slides further down, spreading their legs and raising their hips for their god's better view, and the crown shoves itself into them without hesitation.

  And the god watches; the Lamb’s pathetic bleats and moans fill the silence of death's realm with pleasure, with the hot dripping feeling that is desire. The crown moves slowly at first, but it only takes Narinder a bit of will to order it to move faster. 

The little Lamb rolls their eyes, calls his given name in between a moan and with a dumb satisfied smile on their face. Narinder can feel their devotion, their obsession, dripping like the wetness between their legs. “My lord!” They plead, eyes barely focusing on him. “I'm yours all yours!” They say it like a mantra, a prayer to belong to him and him only. 

They say Death is merciless, but Narinder feels quite merciful as he moves his hand to better support his darling vessel before willing the crown to go faster.

Ewen's mind feels melted; their god, Narinder, was looking at them with the repressed hunger only an immortal could have, the crown inside them was hitting all the right places, and their climax approached fast, so fast, almost there.

They cum with a desperate bleat, the crown finally slows down. Narinder takes in the sight of their perfect vessel lost in bliss; in another time, he would have adorned the little lamb in jewels and have them sit on the arm of his throne during every banquet, then take them to his chambers and fuck him over and over just to see them so beautifully blissed out.

But his chained form doesn’t allow him such things, so instead he allows the crown to return to the Lamb’s head — clean and back to its regular shape —  and nudges the lamb to stand on their shaky legs.

“Return to your duties, little vessel, but remember I'm always watching you.”

  The Lamb gets dressed, still a bit shaky, and is sent back to the cult, knowing that their god would have much to watch during the next few nights.

A/n: A little messy, but I had fun trying to write another Lamb, hope i did it justice.

Where are aym and baal during this scene? Out on a walk or smt idk. Whats the Lamb's genitalia like? Bruh whatever is convenient idc im not good at describing those things lol

#midnight writes #cult of the lamb #narilamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #fanfic writing #asks open #taking requests #cw smut #minors dni #narilamb smut #yipee

[thewertsearch]

Damn. Well, it's not like you actually needed it to fly. Hope you made a note of its code!

I love that WV is just chilling with John now, as he meanders around the Battlefield. The Vagabond is a bit of a wanderer too, so they make a good pair.

AG: Your guardians are not here! EB: oh… EB: dang it! EB: do you know where they are? AG: Yes, they are in another castle. Don't worry, you'll find them later.

Sorry, John. According to gaming tradition, you'll need to explore seven different castles to find what you're looking for.

AG: John, are you mad at me? EB: um… no?

He genuinely isn't, is he?

If any of the other kids learned of Vriska's role in their session's downfall, they'd be ready to throw down - but for John, it's no biggie. He's practically forgotten about it already.

Nothing really fazes this kid, from life-threatening situations to startling family revelations. At least, nothing appears to faze him - but he can't no-sell the game's trials forever. Maybe he's just putting them all in the Vault.

AG: Then what's the matter? EB: i guess i just miss my dad. i was hoping he would be here, but apparently i won't see him for another few hours or whatever? […] AG: I still find it a little hard to understand the sentimentality you attach to these adult humans. […] EB: i guess you just have to think of them the way you think of your lusus..ses? Lusi? […] AG: Except I never liked mine that much. ::::\ AG: Even after I prototyped her, things were pretty chilly 8etween us! I spent most of my adventure avoiding her. Haha.

Fuck, I've never really thought about that. Vriska was stuck with Spidermom for the entire game - and now she could abuse her verbally, too.

That’s... incredibly shitty, actually. Most Sburb Players get to leave their oppressors behind, but Vriska’s became her guide.

EB: why would i be mad at you, vriska? AG: 8ecause I tricked you into getting killed!!!!!!!! EB: oh. right. EB: i… actually almost forgot about that! AG: Would it help if I said I was sorry?

Something very strange is happening to Vriska, here.

She’s killed before – countless times – and she’s never shown anything close to this level of remorse. Sure, she tried to make things up to Aradia, but that never got very far. Vriska just wanted to 'fix' things with her apology gift, and didn't seem to care about Aradia's own feelings. It was too self-centered to be a true apology.

For the first time ever, Vriska's not making an apology all about her, and she isn't ruining it with the insults that are normally so ubiquitous among the trolls. I think it's the first time she's apologized and meant it, and it might signal the beginnings of an actual change.

Among her many crimes, Vriska’s 'murder' of John is relatively mild - but I think it's hitting her much, much harder than the others. She's so worried about ruining things with him that she's apologizing like a human.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3464 #s126

[naamahdarling]

I do want to say, because I know I am extremely and probably sometimes unfairly unforgiving of everything to do with the medical profession, that I had a really good experience last week with a team that was very empathetic and trauma-informed. The area of medicine is deeply triggering and I truly didn't know if I would even be able to talk or not. They were very understanding and respectful and I didn't feel like an inconvenience or a difficult patient, or like someone who was making a big deal out of nothing.

I know and they pointed out that I'm not the only person with this issue. This is actually common. It is utterly baffling to me that so many providers aren't able to cope with PTSD in their patients, especially patients whose trauma is medical in nature. These people treated me like a normal person who had experienced some very not-normal things.

Anyway, I had an unexpectedly hard time afterwards -- I figured the hardest part would be the appointment, and it super was not -- and have had a hard time off and on since. It has not been fun. It's been frustrating and confusing and upsetting and scary. But for once, none of that was the fault of the people I saw. I went in unsure I'd even be able to talk about it and nearly completely certain I wouldn't be able to move forward with the things I need to do. I figured I would probably have to white-knuckle it through a panic attack. I came out having held a productive conversation that left me scared, yes, but also hopeful and optimistic that I can move forward. And I didn't have a panic attack. It was a radical and unexpected change.

I worked hard for this. Any trauma is an awful thing to live with. The work of remaking yourself around the holes it punches in you is hard and confusing. The healing is often slow. In my case it comes with very few immediate rewards (it will actually make my life more difficult for a while because I'll have to deal with more medical interference, hooray). But it was time for me to do this and I have come far enough and worked hard enough to have the resilience to try, and I did it.

All we did was talk, but that would not have been possible a year ago. It was all I could do to ask for a referral because even naming the specialty was upsetting. I couldn't make the phone call to set up an appointment and when they called to try to do it, I hung up. Six or eight months ago I managed to dial the number and then hung up the instant someone answered. Last week I walked into the building and said out loud multiple words that make me feel like I have worms under my skin and which I can barely look at, let alone type. I didn't lose speech. This was a big win for me, and I'm thankful it went well, and I actually am proud of myself. I didn't even use any of my antianxiety meds that day, because I didn't think I would need them.

I don't feel grateful to the staff, I feel like someone finally did the bare fucking minimum, but I am very grateful, because I am not only what I feel. I am also what I know and what I do, and I am finally sort of getting those three things to match up in a way that they patch the holes in one another a little, and maybe someday I can stop slipping through the cracks.

I'm scared they will fuck up when I go to get some issues addressed, and they will betray me or harm me. I really am. Because hey, that's what my experiences have prepared me for, so that's a very natural way for me to feel. Rational, even.

I'm scared that I will look back at this appointment and feel stupid for having experienced any hope at all.

But even if it goes to shit, I still went in there and tried. I still did my best. And my best was okay. I was able to separate my fear from what needed to be done just a little bit. That means something. Because I didn't think I could do it at all.

#rambling again

[thecowinblack]

Burning Hearts pt.3

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Word count: 1345

Summary: A dramatic High Lord/Lady meeting and a confrontational conversation between you and the Night Court.

⚠️Warnings: Drama lol, some against, a little fluff, makeouting, swearing, mentions to cheating, mentions about sex.

An: Well this part is filled with drama and if you've wondered about yn powers well this is your part...

“Hello big brother” You said as the Night Court arrived into the meeting room. Rhysand and a very pregnant Fayre, stood with shocked expressions, meaning that they’d overheard the conversation that you’d just had. Behind them you could see Cassian's broad frame tower and next to him, next to him was Azriel. Morrigan, Amren and Nesta seemed to stand behind them trying to get a good look at the drama unfolding right before them. But with Amren's height it was a miracle that I even could make out the top of her head.The look on his face was just plain sadness and envy, envy as he stared at the many parts where yours and Eris's bodies met. Shadows started to flood the floor as the cavalry from your home court stepped out of the large entrance to the room.

“Y/n/n please tell me that it's all a joke, you can't be Autumn's High Lady!” Rhysand asked you pleadingly.

“So what if I am? Let me get this clear. I am never ever going back to the Night Court. Not after what you all did, what you did.” You said looking accusingly at Azriel.

“Sweetheart I never meant to hurt you, Elain just needed some distraction but you are the one I love, you're my mate!” Azriel told me as he stepped forward and in the same moment Eris's hand flew out to stop him.

“If you take one more step towards her I will burn you to death.” Eris murmured to him, marking every word. “She's my mate! Not yours, she belongs with me! Elain was just a dumb mistake!” Azriel screamed at Eris as Rhysand held him back. “I stopped being yours the moment you cheated on me, and don't you dare to lay all this on Elain. She wasn't in a good phase back then, and we all know it.” You told Azriel. Behind you Helion coughed, symbolizing that the others had arrived. As you turned your back you felt someones hand on your arm, Nesta. The two of you had grown closer after the war. You would often sit in the library together, just reading.

“I'm so, so sorry Y/n. I shouldn’t-” She whispered to you. “Don't, you didn't have anything to do with it. If anything you really helped me, if you someday want a place to just run away to for a while you'll always be welcome in my court.” You told her warmly.

Once you and Eris had gotten seated you could feel the gazes the other High Lords threw at you. And you got it, you’d been your brother's right hand and now, now you were Autumn's High Lady, and everyone knew that the Autumn court and the Night Court didn't have the best relationship…

“So how's Autumn doing now that Beron’s gone? Are your people happy with their new High Lady?” Tarquin asked Eris. “Quite well. My father definitely wasn't the best of High Lords so there's much to do and many things to change but I'm lucky Y/N has been of great help and our people love her, but I mean who wouldn’t. We're currently very open to allies” Eris calmly answered the young High Lord. “Why would we trust you? Like father, like son.” Taunted Rhysand.

“Eris is nothing like Beron and the fact you suggest otherwise when I, your own sister, is married to him, really fucking shows how low you think of me, and of him. Eris is by far the best male I have ever met.” You told Rhysand, quickly erasing that smug smile off his face. You could feel Eris's affectionate stare resting at your face and you placed your hand in his and he firmly held on, almost like he thought you would disappear if he let go of you.

When the meeting was over you and Eris got shown to your quarters, a beautiful ensemble of rooms with marble floors and large windows. Eris quickly sat down at the couch dragging you down in his lap.

“Thank you, thank you for standing up for me.” He mumbled between the sweet kisses he pressed to your neck.

“Always, Eris, Always.” You gasped.

Suddenly a knock on the door interrupted the two of you.

“I'm going to kill whoever's behind that door. ” Eris murmured, his hair a mess. You chuckled quickly and said: “It might be a possible ally so I suggest that you don't.” Eris just rolled his eyes but a large smile was plastered on his face. “One minute just let me-” You said, fixing Eris's hair. “Thanks love!” he said sweetly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Then he opened the door to reveal… Tarquin.

“I hope I'm not bothering you but I would like to discuss an alliance between our courts.” He told the two of you. You and Eris exchanged a surprised look, Tarquin had been a proud ally of Rhysand since the war against Hybern. “Come on in.” You said nicely. The three of you sat down at a low table. You quickly noticed that the rest of the Summer Court was missing.

“Your visions for your court align with mine on a level no other court does. We have been taking in emigrants from the Spring Court for a while and I'm guessing that you have done the same.” He paused and you nodded in agreement. “I want to create a place for them where before we have established them, they can live and be with friends and family. Would the two of you be interested in this?” he asked you.

“Definitely.” Eris said.

The rest of the evening went on smoothly for you and Eris. After Tarquin left you were visited by the Day Court and the Winter court, both interested in an alliance. When you and Eris went to bed smiles were painting your faces and you fell asleep in his arms.

__________________________________

You woke up quite early and decided to go down to the dining room, getting breakfast. You had left a note to Eris, in case you got stuck talking to someone. When you walked into the room you could see the whole Night Court sitting and talking to each other. Aside from them the room was completely empty. Suddenly you felt someone's arms around you, Morrigan. You quickly pushed her away, starting to walk out when you saw two males get in the way, cowering at the entrance.

“Y/n we need to talk.” Rhysand said. “Please just let us explain.” Cassian begged you. The pleading in his eyes was the only thing that made you stay. Cass was like a brother to you. “Fine. What do you want?” You asked them. “Your power, no one but me is able to keep them in shack.” Rhysand said “You need us and we need you.” A scoff unleashed from you. “So this is what it's all about, you want my powers under your control. Well guess what, no. I don't need you. My powers work perfectly without you and your help. I was blessed by the Mother herself. I deserve them and I'm going to use them to help my court, The Autumn Court.” You said as you walked out of the room, going to one of the many balconies in the castle.

Starting out into the ocean made your thoughts wave over you. What are your powers really? You knew that you had Rhysand’s ability but you could also create things from nothing. You could heal people and under the war against Hybern you had felt the cauldron. That was when you realized it. Why you didn't look like your brother at all with your long white hair And clear blue eyes. And why you weren't born with wings like him. Maybe the Mother herself sent down the explanation because you sure as hell wouldn't have realized it without help. You weren't his sister at all. No you weren't even your parents real daughter. You were created by the Mother. You were the Daughter…

Author's note: hehe

Taglist: @queerqueenlynn @se7enteen--black-blog @@mybestfriendmademe @cleverzonkwombatsludge @myromanempiree

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #eris x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris x you #eris x reader #eris vanserra #high lord eris x rhys!sister!reader x azriel #eris x oc #acotar angst #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar agains #acotar x you

[soleilnewspaper]

Home

The epilogue

Series

Summary: Remus revels his secret to you, and is surprised when you accept him so blindly. Sirius and you find a way to make him know how loved he truly is.

Pairing: Poly!wolfstar x female reader

Warnings: Talks of bruises and injury, feeling inadequate (Remus), crying, comfort and fluff, suggestive themes.

Word count: 2.7k

AN: I have rewritten this so many times over the past week because I had no idea how to finish it. That and I’m still ill at the moment. Hopefully I managed to do it justice. Thank you. If you enjoy, please, like, comment and reblog.

Remus had come accustomed to the idea of being a werewolf. It was forced upon him after Fenrir Greyback took that choice away from the boy before he could even reach his fifth birthday.

This hospital ward is a chrysalis in the worst of ways. Remus usually a kind and beautiful person had been melted down to liquid and reformed into the butterfly, conscious and feeling the process at work.

Remus lies in the bleach tinctured ward on the crisp but thinning sheets. A curtain hangs limply on the chrome railing, looking like it's been washed a thousand times. With eyes on the polystyrene tiles avoiding your gaze. If he were to look into them, his heart would break into pieces without a moments breath. His chest begins to crack his spirt as it tightens into a knot like a cramp and a quiet fear builds inside.

Though the room is unfamiliar to you, in that hospital bed is a soul that has been woven into yours since the first time you laid eyes on him at Kings Cross Station all those years ago.

The look in your eyes broke him. Still, you required confirmation from him before going any further.

“Remus, you’re scaring me.” Your fingers found his as you sat down on the edge of the hospital bed. Blankets shifted underneath at your weight.

“Have you heard of a little thing called lycanthropy?”

The head nod with wide eyes that Remus received from you was enough confirmation to continue his explanation.

“When I was four, another werewolf, Fenrir Greyback, he, well..bit me. He was angry with my father about what he said about werewolves. So he used me to punish my father in his own twisted way.”

Most wizards and witch’s did not take well to his lycanthropy creating a constant fear in Remus since he was a little boy. His ma and da felt it. Sirius, James, Peter and Lily felt it. Now you did too.

“Every month when on the full moon, I leave to avoid hurting anyone and the boys come with me-“

“In their anigmus forms.”

“You knew?” Remus chocked out from his tired body.

“Only that they were anigmi, nothing of your condition. Regulus, Pandora and I caught on quickly. They weren’t exactly subtle.” You wiped a tear before it could fall from your face, offering Remus a smile as you spoke.

“You never cease to amaze me, angel.” Remus hand cupped your check and gently he used his figure to wipe your tears. You couldn’t believe he was comforting you when he was the one in pain.

“I understand if you decide you cannot be with me, anymore. Just please don’t punish Sirius for my condition.”

The words left his mouth and left a sting down your throat. You bartered your eyelashes a few times in confusion.

“Why would I do that?” You asked frowning your brows together as if it was merely a simple question.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look of disbelief and confusion, more so Remus than Sirius. The werewolf had decided he didn’t wish to condemn you to this life but Sirius had told him his lycanthropy shouldn’t change a thing. He was more than happy to defend him if it did, but he didn’t needed to. Within moments you had accepted him as is.

“Will you do me one favour.” Your eyes met his honey brown ones, an unspoken message of love spoken between the two of you.

“Anything, dove.” Remus’s voice was gently but betrayed a hint of desperation that left you feeling uneasy.

“Let me come, next time.” Your voice held warmth and your eyes were practically begging and pleading for him to say yes.

The thin injured werewolf dropped his hand from your face immediately like a chain reaction. His gentle face was replaced with one of pure and utter horror. A sharp wine escaped him a mix of pain and horror.

“No, no, no, dovie, you can’t.”

“Animals are safe to werewolves, are they not?” You didn’t mean to smirk but you couldn’t help it.

“Yes, but you-“

“Are an anigmus.” You chuckled under your breath, your eyes griming with joy for the boys having not figured this out.

“Damn, you little minx.” Sirius said through a smirk which you could almost hear in his voice.

“More like an angel reincarnated.” Remus winced when he moved to kiss you so you quickly adjusted your position to make it more comfortable for him.

“Nothing could make me stop loving you, Remus John Lupin.”

“You’re mental, you know that.”

“Mm, but you that’s like em, don’t ye.” You smirked leaning against his side. Remus adjusted his position to wrap his arm around you so you could lay into him.

“That he does.” Sirius chimed in a sense of joy radiating through him for you accepting Remus. Though he would have given you a piece of his mind if you didn’t.

“Come here, love.” You held out your hand to Sirius urging him to join you and Remus’s cuddle. Which he was more than happy to oblige to.

The cold ant-sceptic smelling air could not resist to nip at your exposed skin. Remus pulled you closer to combat the cold. The werewolf sandwiched in between his two lovers. Both careful of his bruises and injuries which still made you cringe every time he winced. You couldn’t believe he had to do this every month, your heart broke for him.

You titled your head to rest it in the crock of Remus’s neck giving you ample opportunity to admire him. In those brown eyes was the warmth of an everlasting hearth, as if they were the wood that could burn with golden flame yet be forever perfectly entire. Just bright enough to shine in the shadows They are a million hues combined together, the word “brown” does not even begin to describe them. They are the forbidden forest and the changing of leaves with seasons, the soil in summer and after the rains. How could someone ever reduce something so spellbinding to one word, when the colours invite us to marvel in their simplicity. Rich brown coloured curls framed his sacred face, reminding you of the sandy beaches back home at your vacation home.

He was beautiful you had thought. Even with bruises littering his body in shades of blue and purple. He was the kind of beauty that expands a moment into a personal eternity, a heaven you wish to be a part of.

A shiver of golden light would race down your spine, every time, every time when you laid eyes on him.

The good werewolf was the protector, as were the angel witches, yet man could not tell the difference between them and the evil degenerates and chased them all from our lands. You could tell the difference and so could Sirius. If and when Remus doubted that fact, you would be there to remind him.

For the two of you could see the mighty goodness within him.

He was sure once he had recovered he would begin to feel the shame and horror of condemning you to such a life. To which you would most likely reassure and reassure him until he came to terms with the fact that you nor Sirius were going anywhere.

Your eyes met Sirius, and you ran your fingers through his. Taking the chance to admire your second boyfriend. The hair that fell from his head was woven from the black heavens, fine strands of spacetime and starlight. Flowing as sweetly as a poet's ink and quill. It contrasted beautifully against his pale skin. His grey eyes had a settling effect, reassuring in their reflectiveness. They were the shine of a star in the nighttime sky.

The pieces of your heart that had been struggling to fit into these world became so quiet when cuddling with your two favourite boys; it was as if they had found peace in you, as if they needed your glue to bridge their gaps and connect. That thought allowed you to pass into a peaceful sleep, while Sirius watched over your shared lover.

No relationship is without trial and error. You knew that better than anyone. Yet you had thought things would become easier between the three of you after learning Remus’s secret.

However, you could sense problems still existed in depths and crack of your relationship. The way Remus would coil occasionally at your touch, the way he isolated himself from you. He hated that not only had he condemned his parents, friends, and boyfriend to a life of misery but he had now done the same to you.

Lycanthropy took away his chance at happiness but it shouldn’t take away yours. Yet it hasn’t, he was the one who had ripped that away from you. You didn’t desveres to fall for a werewolf. Or rather he did not deserve the love and affection that you had offered him so blindly.

The sounds of the black lake evaded your senses as the three of you took in its haunting beauty. Behind you was the outline of the statue of Hogwarts Castle. Sirius had managed to convince you to come down here to entrust your help to reassure your werewolf boyfriend of your shared standpoint surrounding his condition.

The lake met the sun with such grace that day, as if the three of you were so enchanted by this eternal dance that you barely noticed the cold of late autumn England air.

From its core, the lake, reflected the blue sky as the most sincere of smiles. A smile which could only he bested by the beauty of your boys. Underneath you felt the green canvas of the floral flash-mob, or what you imagined a flash mob would look like you weren’t completely sure what it was to be certain.

Tall silken ribbons resembling the ones you wore in your hair sheltered earth and beetle same.

The grass on your soles is soft on soft, warm on warm, a gentle tickle as each giving wand forms a cushion of green.

The meadow surrounding the lake meandered in all ways that are soft to the breeze, the green flowing in bonny waves as any river would be proud to do. You were so enchanted by it you had almost forgotten your entire reason for coming down to this lake in the first place. Sirius had been the one to remind you when he had called Remus’s name.

“Moons, me and Y/N want to talk to you.” Sirius brushed the stray curls from Remus’s face as he spoke gently into his ear.

“What it is?” Remus hummed in response trying to act nonchalantly but you could tell he was anything but that.

“You do know we’re not going to leave you, right?” It was your turn to comfort him after he had done the same to on numerous occasions before.

“Course, I do.” The honey brown hues of his eyes seemed confused at your question.

“You sure, love?” Sirius leaned forward to tilt your shared boyfriend’s chin to face him completely.

Remus remained silent for a while scaring you both. When he did spoke it broke both of you with every syllable. “You shouldn’t have to live in misery because of me.”

“Moons, we chose this, you think I wanted to fall in love with my one of best friends and than the girl I practically hated.” Sirius chuckled in a low breath.

“And do you think I wanted to fall for my best friend’s brother who I pretended to hate, and his gorgeous boyfriend.” You leaned in to settle your face on Remus’s chest.

“What are you both trying to say?” The voice crack in his voice held a hint of desperation mixed with fear.

“You ain’t getting rid of us that easy, Rem.” Sirius smirked before beginning to attack Remus’s jawline with kisses.

“Not. A. Chance.” You chimed in, playing with the ends of his curls.

“But..why?” Remus asked as he sat up to lean his back against the tree.

“Bloody hell, because you’re you. Rem-I-well-we know that everything you have to offer outweighs your little flaw-your condition-whatever you want to call it. Dosen’t change anything, it didn’t when you told me-“

“And it hasn’t now that you have told me.” You finished for Sirius.

“Fuck, how I’d get so lucky?” Remus threw back his head in laughter mixed with love.

“Well, you’re gorgeous for one thing.” Sirius smirked leaning down to Remus’s chest.

“You can say that again.” You rested your head on top of his chest.

“Hey, hey, stop loving on me, dovie here is deprived.” Remus pulled Sirius off him gently. You blushed at his words, checks reddened in embarrassment.

“He does have a point, darling. Get over here.” Sirius smirked and pulled you to his side leaving Sirius in the middle of the three of you.

“Now that is hardly fair.” Remus chuckled.

“Patience is a virtue, Monny.” Sirius said through kisses to your lips.

“When I have ever been a patient man.”

There is a casual grace to the grass near the lake, as if it has a peripheral awareness of its own beauty yet would rather be at peace in this warm sun. That lake was a happy song, a poetry to eye and soul, bright in all the hues our Earth can dream of.

In his heart, Remus felt that he could survive anything if he felt loved, even these pains that come to explode within, these silent hand grenades. With kindness he could make it, as with compassion there is grace. For so long he had feared he would never be able to revive such a gift, but he was proved wrong by four Gryffindor boys and now again by you. Your smile was finer than any drug Madam Prompery could prescribe him. You were his medicine. The acceptance you offered was all he needed. As long as Sirius and you were there to remind him of that love, perphas maybe, he would keep his humanity. Be more than what he had been condemned to before even reaching school age.

The grass is taller than you had ever seen it, meadow-like but still green. All that's missing is the weeds that were so beautiful in the somerset fields. You looked forward to how it would look in the spring. The blue cornflowers, scarlet poppies, white asters and even the thistles. Next spring you hoped you would be able to scatter seeds in the newly softened soil with your boys by your side. This time next year the grass will be just as high, but a riot of colour in place of the uniform green – something to warm your soul as well as please the eye.

Nothing in your life could have prepared you for the whirlwind that came with falling in love for those two boys. No ballroom lesson, tutoring lesson with the finest teacher in the world, fencing, fine dining, conversation protocol, society rules, or anything your mother had told you. You had denied yourself of love for so long now, you had thought you were content without it.

Oh how you were wrong.

You couldn’t imagine why you had denied yourself this for so long. As Sirius made your giggles into fits of laughter when he picked you up while the both of you were knee deep in the lake. Remus watching the two of you from a distance, his black jeans scuffed by the wet grass. A camera around his neck, as he snuck pictures of the two of you when you weren’t watching.

The way your fingers found Remus’s beautiful brown curls as he made you giggle when gently placing kisses to your neck and down your jawline. Or when you had the privilege to watch the two boys cuddle up underneath a red plaid blanket because Sirius had shivered from the cold once he left the confines of the black lake.

The three of you sat there in late autumn, the grass moving in steady waves, those long heads of golden seed as calming as harbour waves. There was something about it, their movement synchronized yet independent, their hues so close yet unique. They danced in that way, came the song of crickets and the chirps of birds content to be warmed by gentle rays. You recall thinking of the days you had been so blessed just ti have made eye contact with one of your boys, and now, they were yours and you were theirs.

The feeling to the inner joy of anticipating the autumn colours. You love the reds and golds as much as anyone, yet the rich browns have a homely feel, something of the earth. You let your mind wonder when those changes will come, perhaps as early as next month or the one after. Then every day those changes bring an inner smile in rain and shine. Despite any doubt in your mind, this was the happiest you had ever felt.

No amount of pureblood society rules or lycanthropy stigma could ruin that for you. You were home.

They were your home.

Taglist: @maraudersforlife2005 @xlxnq @1-800-wh0re4reid @liviessun @ae3ther @de-duchess @wolf-phoenix-lover

#fanfic #marauders #remus lupin #poly wolfstar #poly!wolfstar fluff #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x you #remus x sirius #sirius being sirius #remus loves sirius #sirius x lupin #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius orion black #remus x you #remus x reader #marauders fanfiction #the marauders #remus john lupin #remus j lupin #reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader

[sharpth1ng]

Since the photo of the pope on Stu’s fridge has been discovered I’ve seen a lot of takes about how Stu would definitely have religious guilt and would have more issues with his feelings for Billy. I want to be clear I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that take, it’s definitely something to explore if it interests you but it also flattens the breadth of responses to a religious upbringing and religious trauma. There are so many ways a person might respond to that kind of experience and it doesn’t just stop with internalized guilt.

What about the people who just kind of never fall in line? They’re punished for it over and over but it doesn’t make the religion make sense to them. And maybe they learn over time hide their disbelief, they learn to be quiet at church and hide their same sex partners but the moment they’re 18 they are gone.

What about the people who believed when they were young and have had an experience to change that? Maybe they saw religion used to justify the mistreatment of a sibling or a friend, and they thought “if there is a god, they wouldn’t think this is right”.

What about the ones that swing hard in the opposite direction? The ones so angry with the beliefs instilled in them that they do almost anything they can to enrage their religious family? They may not even be doing this intentionally, but teenage rebellion is teenage rebellion, and if your family is catholic then Catholicism might be what you rebel against. What better way to rebel against the anti gay religion than to kiss another boy? Do you know how many queer pagans and Satanists I know who have a history of religious trauma?

Have you ever felt so mistreated by someone or something, so deeply wronged, that almost anything they disapprove of becomes enticing? I definitely have.

And here’s the thing with Stu, he might have a religious family but he sure does talk about sex a lot. Unabashedly too. He spends the night at his girlfriends house, and she confirms that they have sex. He fills his house with people, feeds them booze, and kills a bunch of them. This isn’t giving me the picture of a fearful catholic son.

Before I saw the pope picture I had already been writing Stu’s family as conservative and religious. He definitely grew up with the idea that sex is a sin and gay sex is even worse. But he’s not a guy that likes authority. He likes sensory pleasure and chaos, and at least some of that is a rejection of his upbringing. Dude watches slasher movies and raunchy comedies like clerks. He fucks and he talks openly about it. He gets drunk and he directs his best friend to go take his girlfriends virginity in his parents bed.

He’s rebelling.

To me? Yeah he might have been the kind of kid who had religious fears and guilts when he was younger. He’s definitely been baptized and his family probably still makes him go to church sometimes. But he’s not isolated. It’s the mid 90s and he has access to more media than kids did ever before. He’s had access to alternative view points, narratives that contradict the ones instilled in him when he was young.

And the 90s are a time characterized by a loud rejection of convention. Grunge rocker Kurt Cobain wears dresses, the riot grrl movement is in full swing, and people are getting really into modern forms of paganism. It’s popular to reject your parents beliefs.

There’s an interview with Neve Campbell where she talks about how she thinks Billy and Stu were partly motivated by the rage of being unable to be themselves in Woodsboro and I think that works really well here. What better what to say a fuck you to your religious parents than to have buttsex with a pretty dude and kill a bunch of people?

Again, this is just the way I see the character. There’s nothing wrong with different interpretations and fandom would be boring if we all saw these characters in the exact same way. But yeah just an alternative way to look at it.

#religious trauma #Stu Macher #scream 1996 #stuilly #billy x stu #Billy loomis x Stu Macher #character analysis #just sharp things